we two-第77部分

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〃There；　now；　let　us　go　home；〃　she　exclaimed。　　〃My　head　aches　a　little　still；　but　we　won't　let　it　spoil　our　last　day　but　one　in　Florence。　　Didn't　we　talk　of　San　Miniato　for　this　afternoon？〃

It　was　something　of　a　relief　to　find；　on　returning；　an　invitation　to　dinner　for　that　evening　which　Raeburn　could　not　well　refuse。　　Erica　kept　up　bravely　through　the　afternoon；　but　when　she　was　once　more　alone　her　physical　powers　gave　way。　　She　was　lying　on　her　bed　sick　and　faint　and　weary；　and　with　the　peculiarly　desolate　feeling　which　comes　to　most　people　when　they　are　ill　in　a　hotel　with　all　the　unheeding　bustle　going　on　around　them。　　Then　came　a　knock　at　her　door。

〃Entrate；〃　she　said　quickly；　welcoming　any　fresh　voice　which　would　divert　her　mind　from　the　weary　longing　for　her　mother。　　A　sort　of　wild　hope　sprung　up　within　her　that　some　woman　friend　would　be　sent　to　her；　that　Gladys　Farrant；　or　　old　Mrs。　Osmond；　or　her　secularist　friend　Mrs。　MacNaughton；　whom　she　loved　best　of　all；　would　suddenly　find　themselves　in　Florence　and　come　to　her　in　her　need。

There　entered　a　tall；　overworked　waiter。　　He　looked　first　at　her；　then　at　the　note　in　his　hand；　spelling　out　the　direction　with　a　puzzled　face。

〃Mess　Rabi　Rabi　Rabi　Rabi　　an？〃　he　asked　hesitatingly。

〃Grazie；〃　she　replied；　almost　snatching　it　from　him。　　The　color　rushed　to　her　cheeks　as　she　saw　the　writing　was　Brian's；　and　the　instant　the　waiter　had　closed　the　door　she　tore　open　the　envelope　with　trembling　hands。

It　was　a　last　appeal；　written　after　he　had　returned　from　wandering　among　the　Apennines；　worn　out　in　body　and　shaken　from　the　noble　fortitude　of　the　morning。　　The　strong　passionate　words　woke　an　answering　thrill　in　Erica's　heart。　　He　asked　her　to　think　it　all　over　once　more；　he　had　gone　away　too　hastily。　　If　she　could　change　her　mind；　could　see　any　possible　hope　for　the　future；　would　she　write　to　him？　　If　he　heard　nothing　from　her；　he　would　understand　what　the　silence　meant。　　This　was　in　brief　the　substance　of　the　letter；　but　the　words　had　a　passionate；　unrestrained　intensity　which　showed　they　had　been　written　by　a　man　of　strong　nature　overwrought　by　suffering　and　excitement。

He　was　here；　in　the　very　hotel。　　Might　she　not　write　to　him？　Might　she　not　send　him　some　sort　of　message　write　just　a　word　of　indefinite　hope　which　would　comfort　and　relieve　herself　as　well　as　him？　　〃If　I　do　not　hear　from　you；　I　shall　understand　what　your　silence　means。〃　　Ah！　　But　would　he　understand？　　What　had　she　said　this　morning　to　him？　　Scarcely　anything　the　merest　broken　bits　of　sentences；　the　poorest；　coldest　confession　of　love。

Her　writing　case　lay　open　on　the　table　beside　the　bed　with　an　unfinished　letter　to　Aunt　Jean；　begun　before　they　had　started　for　Fiesole。　　She　snatched　up　paper　and　pen；　and　trembling　so　much　that　she　could　scarcely　support　herself　she　wrote　two　brief　lines。

〃Darling；　I　love　you；　and　always　must　love　you；　first　and　best。〃

Then　she　lay　back　again　exhausted；　looking　at　the　poor　little　weak　words　which　would　not　contain　a　thousandth　part　of　the　love　in　heart。　　Yet；　though　the　words　were　true；　would　they　perhaps　convey　a　wrong　meaning　to　him？　　Ought　she　to　send　them？　　On　the　other　hand　would　he　indeed　understand　the　silence　the　silence　which　seemed　now　intolerable　to　her？　　She　folded　the　note　and　directed　it；　the　tumult　in　her　heart　growing　wilder　as　she　did　so。　　Once　more　there　raged　the　battle　which　she　had　fought　in　the　amphitheatre　that　morning；　and　she　was　not　so　strong　now；　she　was　weakened　by　physical　pain；　and　to　endure　was　far　harder。　　It　seemed　to　her　that　her　whole　life　would　be　unbearable　if　she　did　not　send　him　that　message。　　And　to　send　it　was　so　fatally　easy；　she　had　merely　to　ring；　and　then　in　a　few　minutes　the　note　would　be　in　his　hands。

It　was　a　little　narrow　slip　of　a　room；　all　her　life　long　she　could　vividly　recall　it。　　The　single　bed　pushed　close　to　the　wall；　the　writing　table　with　its　gay…patterned　cloth；　the　hanging　wardrobe　with　glass　doors；　the　walls　trellised　with　roses；　and　on　the　ceiling　a　painting　of　some　white　swans　eternally　swimming　in　an　ultra…marine　lake。　　The　window；　unshuttered；　but　veiled　by　muslin　curtains；　looked　out　upon　the　Arno；　from　her　bed　she　could　see　the　lights　on　the　further　bank。　　On　the　wall　close　beside　her　was　a　little　round　wooden　projection。　　If　it　had　been　a　rattlesnake　she　could　not　have　gazed　at　it　more　fixedly。　　Then　she　looked　at　the　printed　card　above；　and　the　words　written　in　French　and　English；　German；　and　Italian；　seemed　to　fall　mechanically　on　her　brain；　though　burning　thoughts　seethed　there；　too。

〃Ring　once　for　hot　water；　twice　for　the　chamber　maid；　three　times　for　the　waiter。〃

Merely　to　touch　that　ivory　knob；　and　then　by　the　lightest　pressure　of　the　finger　tips　a　whole　world　of　love　and　happiness　and　rest　might　open　for　her；　and　life　would　be　changed　forever。

Again　and　again　she　was　on　the　point　of　yielding；　but　each　time　she　resisted；　and　each　resistance　made　her　stronger。　　At　length；　with　a　fearful　effort；　she　turned　her　face　away　and　buried　it　in　the　pillow；　clinging　with　all　her　might　to　the　ironwork　of　the　bed。

For　at　least　an　hour　the　most　frightful　hour　of　her　life　she　did　not　dare　to　stir。　　At　last　when　her　hands　were　stiff　and　sore　with　that　rigid　grasping；　when　it　seemed　as　if　her　heart　had　been　wrenched　out　of　her　and　had　left　nothing　but　an　aching　void；　she　sat　up　and　tore　both　Brian's　note　and　her　reply　into　a　thousand　pieces；　then；　in　a　weary；　lifeless　way；　made　her　preparations　for　the　night。

But　sleep　was　impossible。　　The　struggle　was　over　forever；　but　the　pain　was　but　just　begun；　and　she　was　still　a　young　girl　with　the　best　part　of　her　life　stretching　out　before　her。　　She　did　not　toss　about　restlessly；　but　lay　very　still；　just　enduring　her　misery；　while　all　the　every…day　sounds　came　to　her　from　without　laughter　in　the　next　room　from　two　talkative　American　girls；　doors　opening　and　shutting；　boots　thrown　down；　electric　bells　rung；　presently　her　father's　step　and　voice。

〃Has　Miss　Raeburn　been　up　long？〃

〃Sairtenlee；　sair；　yes；〃　replied　the　English…speaking　waiter。　　〃The　signorina　sleeps；　doubtless。〃

Then　came　a　pause；　and　in　another　minute　her　father's　door　was　closed　and　locked。

Noisy　parties　of　men　shouting　out　some　chorus　sung　at　one　of　the　theatres　passed　along　the　Lung'　Arno；　and　twanging　mandolins　wandered　up　and　down　in　the　moonlight。　　The　sound　of　that　harshest　and　most　jarring　of　all　musical　instruments　was　every　after　hateful　to　her。　　She　could　not　hear　one　played　without　a　shudder。　　

Slowly　and　wearily　the　night　wore　on。　　Sometimes　she　stole　to　the　window；　and　looked　out　on　the　sleeping　city；　on　the　peaceful　Arno　which　was　bathed　in　silvery　moonlight；　and　on　the　old；　irregular　houses；　thinking　what　struggles　and　agonies　this　place　had　witnessed　in　past　times；　and　realizing　what　an　infinitesimal　bit　of　the　world's　sufferings　she　was　called　to　bear。　　Sometimes　she　lighted　a　candle　and　read；　sometimes　prayed；　but　for　the　most　part　just　lay　still；　silently　enduring；　learning；　though　she　did　not　think　it；　the　true　meaning　of　pain。

Somewhat　later　than　usual　she　joined　her　father　the　next　morning　in　the　coffee　room。

〃Brian　tells　me　he　is　off　today；〃　was　Raeburn's　greeting。　　〃It　seems　that　he　must　see　that　patient　at　Genoa　again；　and　he　wants　to　get　a　clear　fortnight　in　Switzerland。〃

〃Is　it　nor　rather　early　for　Switzerland？〃

〃I　should　have　thought　so；　but　he　knows　more　about　it　than　I　do。　　He　has　written　to　try　to　persuade　your　friend；　Mr。　Farrant；　to　join　him　in　the　Whitsuntide　recess。〃

〃Oh；　I　am　glad　of　that；〃　said　Erica；　greatly　relieved。

Directly　after　breakfast　she　went　out　with　her　father；　　going　first　of　all　to　French's　bank；　where　Raeburn　had　to　change　a　circular　note。

〃It　is　upstairs；〃　he　said　as　they　reached　the　house。　　〃Don't　you　trouble　to　come　up；　you'll　have　stairs　enough　presently　at　the　Uffizzi。〃

〃Very　well；〃　she　replied；　〃I　will　wait　for　you　here。〃

She　stood　in　the　doorway　looking　out　thoughtfully　at　the　busy　Tornabuoni　and　its　gay　shops；　but　in　a　minute　a　step　she　knew　sounded　on　the　staircase；　and　the　color　rushed　to　her　cheeks。

〃I　have　just　said　goodbye　to　your　father；〃　said　Brian。　　〃I　am　leaving　Florence　this　morning。　　You　must　forgive　me　for　having　written　last　night。　　I　ought　not　to　have　done　it；　and　I　understood　your　silence。〃

He　spoke　calmly；　in　the　repressed　voice　of　a　man　who　holds　〃passion　in　a　leash。〃　　Erica　was　thankful　to　have　the　last　sight　of　him　thus　calm　and　strong　and　self…restrained。　　It　was　a　nobler　side　of　love　than　that　which　had　inspired　his　letter　nobler　because　freer　from　thought　of　self。

〃I　am　so　glad　you　will　have　Donovan；〃　she　said。　　〃Goodbye。〃

He　took　her　hand　in　his；　pressed　it；　and　turned　away　without　a　word。


CHAPTER　XXXIII。　〃Right　Onward〃

Therefore　my　Hope　arose　From　out　her　swound　and　gazed　upon　Thy　face。　And；　meeting　there　that　soft　subduing　look　Which　Peter's　spirit　shook　Sunk　downward　in　a　rapture　to　embrace　Thy　pierced　hands　and　feet　with　kisses　close；　And　prayed　Thee　to　assist　her　evermore　To　〃reach　the　things　before。〃　　E。　B。　Browning

〃I'm　really　thankful　it　is　the　last　time　I　shall　have　to　get　this　abominable　paper　money；〃　said　Raeburn；　coming　down　t