She lifted her pen from the paper. "He'll understand," she thought.

"He'll remember our other letters and read between the lines. Well, so

much the better, and God be good to me!"

"Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! I feel like a child--as if

the years had gone back with me, or rather as if they had only

just begun. You have awakened my soul and all the world is

different. Nearly everything that seemed right to me before seems

wrong to me now, and vice versa. Life? That wasn't life. It was

only existence. I fancy it must have been some elder sister of

mine who went through everything. Think of it! When you were

twenty and I was only ten! I'm glad there isn't as much difference

now. I'm catching up to you--metaphorically, I mean. If I could

only do so physically! But what nonsense I'm talking! In spite of

my poor friend's trouble I can't help talking nonsense to-night."

VI

Two days later Natalina, coming into Roma's bedroom, threw open the

shutters and said: "Letter with a foreign postmark, Excellency--'

Sister Angelica, care of

the Porter.' It was delivered at the Convent, and the porter sent it

over here."

"Give it to me," said Roma eagerly. "It's quite right. I know whom it is

for, and if any more letters come for the same person bring them to me

immediately."

Almost before the maid had left the room Roma had torn the letter open.

It was dated from a street in Soho.

"MY DEAR WIFE,--As you see, I have reached London, and now I am

thinking of you always, wondering what sufferings are being

inflicted upon you for my sake and how you meet and bear them. To

think of you there, in the midst of our enemies, is a spur and an

inspiration. Only wait! If my absence is cruel to you it is still

more hard to me. I will see your lovely eyes again before long,

and there will be an end of all our sadness. Meantime continue to

love me, and that will work miracles. It will make all the slings

and slurs of life seem to be a long way off and of no account.

Only those who love can know this law of the human heart, but how

true it is and how beautiful!

"We reached London in the early morning, when the grey old city

was beginning to stir after its sleepless rest. I had telegraphed

the time of my arrival to the committee of our association, and

early as it was some hundreds of our people were at Charing Cross

to meet me. They must have been surprised to see a man step out of

the train in the disguise of driver of a wine-cart on the

Campagna, but perhaps that helped them to understand the position

better, and they formed into procession and marched to Trafalgar

Square as if they had forgotten they were in a foreign country.




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