nical
figure in which the mechanism has suddenly been suspended, she stopped,
swayed a little and, dropping into the nearest chair, broke into a
flood of tears--such tears as had shaken her four years ago, when she
drove out of Carrigmore on the day of her wedding.

_PART IV_

CHAPTER I

The penetrating Florentine sunshine was enveloping the villa that stood
upon the hill above San Domenico; but it was not the full, warm
sunshine of late April that had opened the roses in the garden and
deepened the shadows of the cypress trees nearly two years earlier,
when Clodagh had dreamed of her visit to Venice. It was the cool
sunlight of February, and it fell across the polished floors, and threw
into prominence the many antique and curious objects that filled the
rooms, with a searching clearness that almost seemed like a human
scrutiny.

In a small salon that opened upon the terrace Clodagh sat at a bureau.
In front of her was a formidable array of letters and business papers,
neatly bound into packets by elastic bands, and under her hand was
spread a sheaf of unused, black-bordered note-paper.

Whether it was the multitude of her own thoughts that retarded the task
she had in hand, or a certain air of absolute stillness that seemed to
brood over the villa, one could not say; but certain it is that for
nearly half an hour she sat in an attitude of abstraction, her fingers
poised above the note-paper, the tip of her pen held against her lips.

At last, however, a new idea seemed born in her mind, for she laid down
her pen, rose suddenly to her feet, and moving across the room, paused
beside the window.

For a long, silent space she stood at this closed window, her gaze
wandering over the scene that custom had rendered so familiar,--the
hillside, cut into characteristic tiers of earth, until it sloped
downwards almost like a flight of steps, from which the grey olive
trees and the black cypresses rose sharply defined in the brilliant
atmosphere; at its foot, Florence, with its suggestion of dark-roofed
houses and clustering spires; and beyond all, encircling all, the low
chain of mountains, blue and purple in the sun. Quite suddenly, with a
swift, impulsive movement, she unfastened the latch and threw the
window open.

In the added radiance that poured into the room, she stood more
distinctly revealed, and the slight changes that even two years can
make became visible in her face and figure. The pose of