hispered communication passing around from student
to student in the university; everyone was to be prepared for great
things after Easter.

All this had put Arthur into a state of rapturous anticipation, in which
the wildest improbabilities hinted at among the students seemed to him
natural and likely to be realized within the next two months.

He arranged to go home on Thursday in Passion week, and to spend the
first days of the vacation there, that the pleasure of visiting the
Warrens and the delight of seeing Gemma might not unfit him for the
solemn religious meditation demanded by the Church from all her children
at this season. He wrote to Gemma, promising to come on Easter Monday;
and went up to his bedroom on Wednesday night with a soul at peace.

He knelt down before the crucifix. Father Cardi had promised to receive
him in the morning; and for this, his last confession before the Easter
communion, he must prepare himself by long and earnest prayer. Kneeling
with clasped hands and bent head, he looked back over the month, and
reckoned up the miniature sins of impatience, carelessness, hastiness
of temper, which had left their faint, small spots upon the whiteness of
his soul. Beyond these he could find nothing; in this month he had
been too happy to sin much. He crossed himself, and, rising, began to
undress.

As he unfastened his shirt a scrap of paper slipped from it and
fluttered to the floor. It was Gemma's letter, which he had worn all
day upon his neck. He picked it up, unfolded it, and kissed the
dear scribble; then began folding the paper up again, with a dim
consciousness of having done something very ridiculous, when he noticed
on the back of the sheet a postscript which he had not read before.
"Be sure and come as soon as possible," it ran, "for I want you to meet
Bolla. He has been staying here, and we have read together every day."

The hot colour went up to Arthur's forehead as he read.

Always Bolla! What was he doing in Leghorn again? And why should Gemma
want to read with him? Had he bewitched her with his smuggling? It had
been quite easy to see at the meeting in January that he was in love
with her; that was why he had been so earnest over his propaganda. And
now he was close to her--reading with her every day.

Arthur suddenly threw the letter aside and knelt down again before the
crucifix. And this was the soul that was preparing for absolution, for
the Easter sacrament--the soul at