r in her arms and kissed her. There was a strange
joy in her face; the eyes were no longer haggard, but full of light and
hope.

"You dear mother," she said, as she gently compelled her to be seated
again, "that is the place for you. You will remain here, quiet,
undisturbed by any fears; no one shall molest you; and when you have
quite recovered from all your sufferings, and when your courage has
returned to you, then I will come back and tell you my story. It is
story for story, is it not?"'

She rung the bell.

"Pardon me, dear mother; there is no time to be lost. For once I return
to my father's house--yes, there is a card there that I must have--"

"But afterward, child, where do you go?" the mother said, though she
could scarcely find utterance.

"Why, to Naples, mother; I am an experienced traveller; I shall need no
courier."

The blood had mounted into both cheek and forehead; her eyes were full
of life and pride; even at such a moment the anxious, frightened mother
was forced to think she had never seen her daughter look so beautiful.

The door opened.

"Madame, be so good as to tell Anneli that I am ready."

She turned to her mother.

"Now, mother, it is good-bye for I do not know how long."

"Oh no, it is not, child," said the other, trembling, and yet smiling in
spite of all her fears. "If you are going to travel, you must have a
courier. I will be your courier, Natalushka."

"Will you come with me, mother?" she cried, with a happy light leaping
to her eyes. "Come, then--we will give courage to each other, you and I,
shall we not? Ah, dear mother, you have told me your story only in time;
but we will go quickly now--you and I together!"

CHAPTER XLV.

SOUTHWARD.

After so much violent emotion the rapid and eager preparations for
travel proved a useful distraction. There was no time to lose; and
Natalie very speedily found that it was she herself who must undertake
the duties of a courier, her mother being far too anxious and alarmed.
Once or twice, indeed, the girl, regarding the worn, sad face, almost
repented of having accepted that impulsive offer, and would have
proposed to start alone. But she knew that, left in solitude, the poor
distressed mother would only torture herself with imaginary fears. As
for herself, she had no fear; her heart was too full to have any room
for fear. And yet her hand trembled a little as she sat down to write
these two messages of farewell. The firs