never write a line; nor would you go to her
now had she sent for you alone; she knew that, and sends for me, sure
that you will follow."

"Being a woman she cannot quite forgive me for loving her too well to
make her miserable. Dear soul, she will never know how much it cost me,
but I knew that my only safety lay in flight. Tell her so a long while
hence."

"You shall do it yourself, for you are coming home with me."

"What to do there?"

"All you ever did; walk up and down the face of the earth, waxing in
power and virtue, and coming often to us when we get fairly back into
our former ways, for you are still the house friend."

"I was wondering, as I walked here, what my next summons would be, when
lo, you came. Go on, I'll follow you; one could hardly have a better
guide."

"You are sure you are able, Adam?"

"Shall I uproot a tree or fling you over the wall to convince you, you
motherly body? I am nearly whole again, and a breath of sea air will
complete the cure. Let me cover my head, say farewell to the good
Sisters, and I shall be glad to slip away without further
demonstrations from the volcanoes below there."

Laying one hand on the low wall, Warwick vaulted over with a backward
glance at Moor, who followed to the gateway, there to wait till the
adieux were over. Very brief they were, and presently Warwick
reappeared, evidently touched yet ill-pleased at something, for he both
smiled and frowned as he paused on the threshold as if loth to go. A
little white goat came skipping from the orchard, and seeing the
stranger took refuge at Warwick's knee. The act of the creature seemed
to suggest a thought to the man. Pulling off the gay handkerchief some
grateful woman had knotted round his neck, he fastened it about the
goat's, having secured something in one end, then rose as if content.

"What are you doing?" called Moor, wondering at this arrangement.

"Widening the narrow entrance into heaven set apart for rich men unless
they leave their substance behind, as I am trying to do. The kind
creatures cannot refuse it now; so trot away to your mistress, little
Nanna, and tell no tales as you go."

As the goat went tapping up the steps a stir within announced the
dreaded demonstration. Warwick did not seem to hear it; he stood looking
far across the trampled plain and ruined town toward the mountains
shining white against the deep Italian sky. A rapt, far-reaching look,
as if he saw beyond the purple wall