"Oh, give her to me, signore," she cried, stretching out her hand for it. "I will pray to her every day for you, and perhaps she will send you back to me."
He had not told her before, and now he could not tell her, how worse than useless he thought those prayers; yet her affection for himself, mingled as it was with her devotion for the Madonna, touched him almost in spite of himself, and giving her the box silently, he took her by the hand and led her home.
It was the same path down which he had carried her when first he saw her; and her parents, too, were sitting at the door as on that evening; but now sorrow, instead of joy, was to be seen in their faces as they rose to receive him. Maria threw herself at his feet, crying and muttering a great deal, in which la Madonna and dolore were the only words that could be distinctly heard.
"Maria," exclaimed Mr. Earnscliffe, "you are surely not going to give la bambina such a bad example!" and, turning to Anina, he added, "Show your Madonna to la madre, my child."
The trembling little hands began to undo the lid, and Mr. Earnscliffe said in a low tone, "I must wish you addio now, amici, siate felici." He pressed a hand of each; then bent down and gave Anina a hurried kiss, and said, "Take her, Paolo." He turned and walked away as fast as he could.
Paolo held Anina, who struggled to get free and run after Mr. Earnscliffe, whilst Maria knelt down, and in an excited tone called on the Santissima Madre di Dio to guard and protect him in life, and after death to lead him to her Divine Son in the bright heavens above.
Mr. Earnscliffe heard it, and for the moment their lively faith in the influence of a mother, even over a Divine Son, appeared to him to be strangely beautiful. That scene often recurred to his memory, and he scoffed not at it, but his heart yearned towards the poor superstitious Capri fisherpeople.
Two hours later the steamer was bearing him swiftly away from their island....