inner reality; and made sharp the sense of it with
the contrast of what might have been. As they went along, Venice became
to her fancy a grave and monument of lost things, which floated
together in her mind's vision. Past struggles for freedom, beaten back
or faded out; vanished patriotism and art, with their champions;
extinct ambitions and powers; historical glories evaporated, as it
were, leaving only a scent upon the air; what was left at Venice but
monuments? and like it now her own little life gone out and gone down!
For so it seemed to Dolly. Even if she succeeded in her mission, and
brought her father home, what safety, what security could she have? And
if she did _not_ bring him--then all was lost indeed. It was lost
anyhow, she thought, as far as her own life was concerned. Her father
could not be what he had been again. "O father! my father!" was poor
Dolly's bitter cry, "if you had taken anything else from me, and only
left me yourself!"

After a long time, when she spoke to Rupert, it was in a quiet,
unaltered voice.

"Is this the shortest way, Rupert?"

"As like as not it's the longest. But, you see, it's the only way I
know. I've always got there starting from the Place of St. Mark; and
that way I know what I am about; but though I daresay there's a short
cut home, I've never been it, and don't know it."

Dolly added no more.

"It's a bit of a walk from St. Mark's," Rupert went on. "Do you mind?"

"No," said Dolly, sighing. "Rupert, I wish you were a Christian friend!
You are a good friend, but I wish you were a Christian!"

"Why just now?"

"Nobody else can give one comfort. You cannot, Rupert, with all the
will in the world; there is no comfort in anything you could tell me. I
have only one Christian friend on this side of the Atlantic; and that
is Mrs. Jersey; and she might as well be in America too, where Aunt Hal
is!"

Dolly was crying. It went to Rupert's heart.

"What could a Christian friend say to you?" he asked at length.

"Remind me of something, or of some words, that I ought to remember,"
said Dolly, still weeping.

"Of what?" said Rupert. "If you know, tell me. Remind yourself; that's
as good as having some one else remind you. What comfort is there in
religion for a great trouble? Is there any?"

"Yes," said Dolly.

"What then? Tell us, Miss Dolly. I may want it some time, as well as
you."

"I suppose everybody is pretty sure to want it, some time in his life,"
said Do