ally, her only thought was for the others,
never for herself, and she writes to Miss Browning how sad she is in the
thought of her husband's not seeing his father, and "If it were possible
for Robert to go with Pen," she continues, "he should, but he wouldn't go
without me."

When she had sufficiently recovered to start for Florence, they set out on
June 4, resting each night on the way, and reaching Siena four days later,
where they lingered. From there Mr. Browning wrote to the Storys that they
had traveled through exquisite scenery, and that Ba had borne the journey
fairly well. But on arriving in Florence and opening their apartment again
in Casa Guidi, it was apparent that the poet had decided rightly that
there was to be no attempt made to visit Paris. During these closing days
of Mrs. Browning's stay on earth, her constant aim was "to keep quiet, and
try not to give cause for trouble on my account, to be patient and live on
God's daily bread from day to day."

"_O beauty of holiness,_
_Of self-forgetfulness, of lowliness!_"

It is difficult to read unmoved her last words written to Miss Sarianna
Browning. "Don't fancy, dear," she said, "that this is the fault of my
will," and she adds:

"Robert always a little exaggerates the difficulties of traveling, and
there's no denying that I have less strength than is usual to me....
What does vex me is that the dearest nonno should not see his Peni
this year, and that you, dear, should be disappointed, _on my account
again_. That's hard on us all. We came home into a cloud here. I can
scarcely command voice or hand to name _Cavour_. That great soul,
which meditated and made Italy, has gone to the diviner country. If
tears or blood could have saved him to us, he should have had mine. I
feel yet as if I could scarcely comprehend the greatness of the
vacancy."

For a week previous to her transition to that diviner world in which she
always dwelt, even on earth, she was unable to leave her couch; but she
smilingly assured them each day that she was better, and in the last
afternoon she received a visit from her beloved Isa, to whom she spoke
with somewhat of her old fire of generous enthusiasm of the new Premier,
who was devoted to the ideals of Cavour, and in whose influence she saw
renewed hope for Italy. The Storys were then at Leghorn, having left Rome
soon after the departure of the Brownings, and they were hesitating