'Ay, child.'
Andrea shifted the pipe slowly to his other hand and laid his disengaged fingers fondly upon the girl's thick hair.
There was a silence between them while the water bubbled and hissed upon the hearth. But as Italia stooped to lift the saucepan Drea checked her. He said:
'I've done what I could, child; what I could.'
'Yes, father.'
'His father was the same sort before him. I never told you, but Sora Catarina there, she was my sweetheart once, when we were all young together. And his father was my friend, and he took her away from me. And I was fond of her then, I was.'
Italia drew his hard hand down against her cheek, and kissed it softly, without speaking.
'Ay. I was fond of her once—main fond. And 'twas partly for that, perhaps, I always had a sort o' fancy for the lad. I never could bear to be hard on him. An' he's disappointed me. It's i' the breed, my girl; a bad breed, and you can't alter that with wishing. You can't turn a porpoise into a dolphin, no matter how long you leave him in the water.'
As still she made no answer, he added more insistingly:
'I'd have saved you from this if I could, my pretty. I did all I knew how. But you can't get a grip on the anchor when there's no bottom but only shifting sand. Faithlessness—— Look here, girl, it's like poison in one's daily bread.' He stroked her cheek tenderly, 'My girl, it's poison, you can't live on it.'