I DON’T remember very well after that how these outside affairs went on. I used to see them both, of course. Sara came to me almost every day, and sometimes helped with my work, and sometimes played with baby, and sometimes would read aloud to me when Harry was out. She meant it very well and was very good, and a comfort, as much as that was possible. I remember being glad when she read, and did not talk, for then I was free to my own thoughts. I daresay, thinking it over since, that it must have been the fascination of seeing her constantly, which for that interval took precedence of everything in Luigi’s mind, and kept him inactive; for I heard from Aunt Milly that he had not been to the Park again, nor heard of in any way, so far as she knew. And Miss Mortimer had been ailing too, and had very bad nights, and had been a whole week that she did not come downstairs. I heard all these things at the time without taking any notice of them. Harry, after finding himself so unsuccessful with Luigi, had given it all up; and we were both too much occupied with our own concerns to think of anything else. We did not talk much of what was to happen when he was gone. It had come to be tacitly concluded that I was to go with Aunt Milly; and, I suppose, that thought that crossed Harry’s mind after his conversation with Luigi,—“What if the Park should turn out to be no inheritance of ours after all?”—had passed away again as it came. I can’t say I ever thought of the Park at that time one way or another; and I am sure what Harry was glad for me to have, was not the prospect of a great fortune, but the presence of a dear friend.

One day he rode out to see Aunt Milly, and take leave of her. He saw them both, he told me, but nothing passed that I cared to inquire into. We had a great deal to do, which helped us to pull through these days. It was such a difficulty to get those things which I had collected, packed. Harry’s{323} servant came, and puffed and scratched his head over them, and poor Domenico came up to help; and what with his broad laughs and pantomime, and his determination to get everything in, and his cheerfulness over all his failures, and the ludicrous way in which he and Thomson addressed each other, each in his own language, and abused each other too, even I was obliged to laugh, and the assistants were all kept in good-humour. I felt as if it had been very dark all these days—often raining, always cloudy, the streets muddy and uncomfortable, and the air stifling. I can’t tell whether it was so in reality, but it certainly seemed so to me.

Then the very last day came. Harry was specially busy all that day; there were all the men to look after, and he was acting adjutant. I went out by myself to see whether I could not find anything else he might want. It was very fatiguing walking—I suppose it was a rainy day. When I came in I felt very faint, and sat down in a chair in the hall for an instant to recover myself. I can’t tell how Luigi knew that I was there; but he came out to the door of his room, and stood looking at me for a moment. I got up, being jealous that anybody should see me break down, just then; but he held up his hand as if to beg me to stay.

“May I say how I think of you?” he said. “Just now you are never out of my mind, you and that brave Langham. Patience, patience! such men come back—they come back!”

“Oh, hush, hush, hush!” I cried. I could say nothing more, and pressed past him to go upstairs.

He put his hand on mine when I laid it on the rail of the stairs, detaining me. “We are cousins,” he said, softly; “do not put me away. In my country we say cousin-brother—it does not matter, it is the same. I will be your brother if you will let me. Tell him. I am not to be ashamed of; he knows not; but if she will not do what is right, soon all the world must know. I am your brother, at your disposition. Say it to him. I will not come to say farewell to disturb you—but tell him; he shall trust me, and you may want a brother; we are of one blood.”

“Oh, let me go!” I cried. “I can’t ask you how this is. I can’t thank you, though I am sure it is kindness. I can’t think of anything to-day; let me go.”

Luigi kissed my hand, and let me go. It startled me very much for the moment. I rushed upstairs, feeling as if he had been rude to me;—but indeed he had not been rude to me, nor anything the least like it. But it startled me into{324} realizing all that was going to happen. That I should be alone as to-morrow. I remember running and clutching at the blinds which were down, and drawing them up with great haste, and almost passion. It seemed to me as if that dim light were predicting something; as if the furniture standing about was looking on, and knew what was going to be. Now the time was come; I had gone over it and over it in my fancy; this would be the last of my rehearsals; to-morrow Harry would be away.

And the to-morrow came, as they............