should be happy in a hut. What an adventure we have had! I regret
none of it."

"Neither do I." And then, sure of the shadow and the propitiousness of
the moment, he kissed her. Kitty would never have forgiven him if he
hadn't. "I've bought you a cricket to take home."

"A cricket?"

"Yes. These Florentines consider crickets very lucky, that is, the first
you find in May. You put him in a little wire cage and feed him lettuce,
and if he sings, why, there's no doubt about the good luck. Funny little
codger! Looks like a parson in a frockcoat and an old-fashioned stock."

"Good luck always," said Kitty, brushing his hand with her lips.

They were gone, and Hillard was alone. He missed them all sorely,
Merrihew with his cheery laugh, Kitty with her bright eyes, and O'Mally
with his harmless drolleries. And no letter. It would not be true to say
that he waited patiently, that he was resigned; he waited because he
must wait. There had been a great shock, and she required time to
recover her poise. Was there a woman in all the world like her? No. She
was well worth waiting for. And so he would wait. She was free now; but
would that really matter? There was no barrier; but could she love him?
And might not her letter, when it did come, be a valedictory?

Daily he searched the newspapers for news of Giovanni; but to all
appearances Giovanni had vanished, as indeed he had, for ever out of
Hillard's sight and knowledge.

The letter came one week after the departure of his friends. It was
post-marked Venice. And the riddle was solved.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE LETTER

Shall I say that I am sorry? No. I am not a hypocrite. Death in all
forms is horrible, and I shudder and regret, but I am not sorry. Does it
sound cruel and heartless to express my feelings thus frankly? Well, I
am human; I do not pose as being better than I am. I have suffered a
grievous wrong. At the hands of this man I lost my illusions, I learned
the words hate and loathing, shame and despair. Again I say that I
regret the violence of his end, but I am not sorry to be free. If we
wait long enough the scales of Heaven will balance nicely. Some outraged
father or brother, to this alone do I attribute his death.

Let me be as brief as possible; I have no desire to weary you, only the
wish to vindicate in part what appeared to you as a species of madness.

My father was Colonel Grosvenor, of the Confederate army, during the
Civil War. On General Lee's