, and then I shall die. The
light may flicker, but, till then, it will not go out. You will ask me:
Who am I that I dare to fix a limit to an existence which God alone
controls? I cannot tell you, Margharita, why I know, or how, yet it is
surely so. The day which sees me free of my vow will also be the day of
my death.

"Trouble not, my child, at this thought, nor wonder why I can write of
the end of my days so calmly. Ask yourself rather what further life
could mean for me. There is no joy which I desire; my worn-out frame
could find no pleasure in dragging out a tasteless and profitless
existence. I look for death as one looks for his couch who has toiled
and labored through the heat of the day. I shall find there rest and
peace. I have no other desire.

"For yourself, Margharita, have no fear. I have made your fortune my
care, and God grant that it may be a happy one. Honest men have made
good profit out of my lands during my imprisonment. I have wealth to
leave, and it is yours. The Castle of the Marionis will be yours, and
well I know you will raise once more and uphold the mighty, though
fallen, traditions of our race. I leave all fearlessly in your hands, at
your entire disposal. Only one thing I beg of you, and that without fear
of refusal. Marry not an Englishman. Marry one of the nobility of our
own island, if you can find one worthy of you; if not, there are nobles
of Italy with whom your alliance would be an honor, and also a profit.
You will be rich as you are beautiful; and the first lady in Italy, our
distant kinswoman, Angela di Carlotti, will be your guardian and your
friend. May you be very, very happy, dearest; and all that comes to you
you will deserve, for you have lightened the heart of a weary old man,
whose blessing is yours, now and for ever.

"LEONARDO DI MARIONI."

* * * * *

_Letter from Margharita Briscoe to the Count Leonardo di Marioni, care
of the Princess di Carlotti, Palazzo Carlotti, Rome._

"MY DEAR, DEAR UNCLE: I am inclined to scold you for your letter, for it
made me very sad. Why should you be so sure of dying just as the
vengeance which is your due becomes yours? You are not very old, and I
can nurse you even as I did before. Think how lonely I should be without
you. No, you must not think of leaving me. I forbid it! It is morbid.
Banish that fancy for my sake, and try and think of a quiet happy life
together, away in some southern city, wher