ish to address Nostromo. "Why are you wasting

time? Old Giorgio's wife wishes to see you." " I am going to her, sefiora," muttered the capataz. Dr. Monygham now showed himself, bringing back the children. To Mrs. Gould's inquiring glance he only shook his head and went outside at once, fol- lowed by Nostromo. The horse of the torch-bearer, motionless, hung his head low, and the rider had dropped the reins to light a cigarette. The glare of the torch played on the front of the house, crossed by the big black letters of its inscription in which only the word " Italia" was light- ed fully. The patch of wavering glare reached as far as Mrs. Gould's carriage waiting on the road, with the yellow-faced, portly Ignacio apparently dozing on the box. By his side Basilio, dark and skinny, held a Winchester carbine in front of him with both hands and peered fearfully into the darkness. Nostromo touched lightly the doctor's shoulder. "Is she really dying, Sefior Doctor?" "Yes," said the doctor, with a strange twitch of his scarred cheek. "And why she wants to see you I can- not imagine." "She has been like that before," suggested Nos- tromo, looking away. "Well, capataz, I can assure you she will never be like that again," snarled Dr. Monygham. "You may go to her or stay away. There is very little to be got from talking to the dying. But she told Dona Emilia in my hearing that she has been like a mother to you ever since you first set foot ashore here."

"Si! And she never had a good word to say for