something will!"

There were several other letters, all from friends at home. One,
in a great square envelope, addressed with an English scrawl, she
dreaded, and she kept it for the last. When she did tear it open
her face grew quite pale. There was much in it about duty and
consecration, and much concerning two lives sacrificed to the
same great ideal. It breathed thoughts of denial and of
annihilation of self, and,--yes, Eustace took her at her word and
was ready to welcome again the old relation. If she would permit
him, he would send back the ring.

Hermes hid behind a stone and dashed out at his mistress to
surprise her, expecting to be chased as usual, but Daphne could
not run. With heavy feet and downcast eyes she walked along the
green roadway, then, when her knees suddenly became weak, sat
down on a stone and covered her face with her hands. She had not
known until this moment how she had been hoping that two and two
would not make four; she had not really believed that this could
be the result of her letter of atonement. Her soul had traveled
far since she wrote that letter, and it was hard to find the way
back. Hiding the brown and purple distances of the Campagna came
pictures of dim, candle-lighted spaces, of a thin face with a
setting of black and white priestly garments, and in her ears was
the sound of a voice endlessly intoning. It made up a vision of
the impossible.

She sat there a long, long time, and when she wakened to a
consciousness of where she was, it was a whining voice that
roused her.