ent visits to the sick maestro. It was
very hard for her to leave him and neglect the duties which she had
undertaken, but in the presence of the summons addressed to her every
other consideration must be silent.

When Barbara returned to her own apartments Lamperi was still busied with
the packing.

Several dresses--first of all the new Brussels gown and its belongings,
even the pomegranate blossoms which the garden city of Ghent had supplied
as something rare in November for her mistress's adornment--were placed
carefully in the largest trunk, while Barbara, overpowered by
inexpressible restlessness, paced the room with hasty steps from side to
side.

Only when one or another article was taken from a casket or box did she
pause in her walk. Among the things selected was the pearl necklace which
Charles had given her, and the only note her royal lover had ever
written, which ran, "This evening, quia amore langueo." This she laid
with her own hand among the laces and pomegranate blossoms, for this cry
of longing might teach her son what she had once been to his father. When
John had seen her and felt how clear he was to her, he must become aware
that he had another mother besides the Spanish lady whom he called "Tia,"
and who made his underclothing; then he could no more forget her than
that other woman.

Lastly, she summoned the major-domo and told him what he must do during
her absence, which she thought would not exceed a week at the utmost. The
guests invited for Wednesday must be notified; the women's choir must be
requested to excuse her non-appearance; Sir Jasper Gordon, her most
faithful admirer, an elderly Englishman, must learn that she had gone
away; but, above all, writing tablet in hand, she directed him how to
provide for her poor, what assistance every individual should receive, or
the sums of money and wood which were to be sent to other houses to
provide for the coming winter. She also placed money at the majordomo's
disposal for any very needy persons who might apply for help while she
was out of reach.

Before the November sun had set she entered the La Porta travelling
carriage. The chaplain, whom she referred to the major-domo for any
matters connected with the poor, gave his blessing to the departing
traveller, whose cheerful vivacity, after so many severe trials, he
admired, and whose "golden heart," as he expressed it, had made her dear
to him. The servants gathered at the door of the house