"You might find out something that I wish very much to know. It would not be hard at all. We are rather anxious about it."
"What is the matter?" asked Adele, with sudden interest.
"That is it. There is a disagreeable story afloat. More than one, in fact. It has reached my ears on good authority that Arden drinks far too much. You know what a brave girl Laura is. She hides it as well as she can, but she is terribly unhappy. Have you any idea whether there is any truth in all this?"
Adele hesitated a moment, and looked earnestly into her teacup, as though seeking advice. The moment was important. Her father had brought her own story back to her for confirmation, as it were. It might be dangerous to take the other side now. Suddenly she looked up with a well-feigned little smile of embarrassment.
"I would rather not say what I think, papa," she said, with the evident intention of not denying the tale.
"But, my dear," protested her father, "you must see how anxious we are on Laura's account. Really, my child, have a little confidence in me—tell me what you know."
"If you insist—well, I suppose I must. I am afraid there is no doubt about it. Laura's husband is very intemperate."
"Ah me! I feared so, from what I had heard," said the Prince, looking down, and shaking his head very sadly.
"You see, the people first began to talk about it last year, when he was in such a disgraceful condition in your house, and Pietro Ghisleri had to take him home."
"Yes, yes!" Gerano still shook his head sorrowfully. "I ought to have known, but they told me it was a fainting fit. And the worst of it is, my dear Adele, that there are other stories, and worse ones, too, about Laura. I hear that she is seriously in love with Francesco. Poor thing! it is no wonder—she is so unhappy at home, and Francesco is such a fine fellow, and always so kind to her everywhere."