ll be disappointed, and I am
disappointed too, for I should like to see you; but I think it would
be better, and Monsignor, who was here to-day, thinks it would be
better, that we should not see each other... for the present. I have
recovered a good deal, but am still far from well; my nerves are
shattered. You know I have been through a great deal; and though I am
sure you would have refrained from all allusions to unpleasant
topics, still your presence would remind me too much of what I don't
want to think about. It is impossible for me to explain better. This
letter will seem unkind to you, who do not like unkind letters; but
you will try to understand, and to see things from my point of view,
and not to rave when I tell you that I am going to a convent--not to
be a nun; that, of course, is out of the question; but for rest, and
only among those good women can I find the necessary rest.

"My first thought was to go to Dulwich to my father, but--well, here
is a piece of news that will interest you--he has been appointed
_capelmeister_ to the Papal choir, the ambition of his life is
fulfilled, and he started at once for Rome. It is possible that
three or four months hence, when he is settled, he will write to ask
me to go out to join him there, and Monsignor would like me to do
this, for, of course, my duty is by my father, who is no longer as
young as he used to be. I don't like to leave him, but the matter
has been carefully considered; he has been here with Monsignor, and
the conclusion arrived at is, that it is better for me to go to the
convent for a long rest. Afterwards ... one never knows; there is no
use making plans. "EVELYN."

"No use making plans; I should think not, indeed," Owen cried. "Never
will she come out of that convent, Merat, never! They have got her,
they have got her! You remember the first day we met, you and I, in
the Rue Balzac, and you have been with her ever since; you were with
us in Brussels when she sang 'Elizabeth,' and in Germany--do you
remember the night she sang 'Isolde'? So it has come to this, so it
has come to this; and in spite of all we could do. Do you remember
Italy, Merat? Good God! Good God!" And he fell into a chair and did
not speak again for some time. "It would have been better if Ulick
Dean had persuaded her to go away with him. It was I who told him to
go to see her and kept him in my house because I knew that this
damned priest would get her in the end."

"But,