e very end, and spoke to me quite lucidly of his affairs half an
hour before he died. And, Larry--I think he was happy! You cannot
imagine what it is to be able to say that! Death brings so many
regrets. It frightens me when I look back now over the years, and
think of our marriage. It was so terribly, cruelly unwise. A man of
his age, a girl of mine! And, knowing what I know now, the first
years must have been very bitter for him. Since then, things have
been better--and worse. Two years ago we were perilously near
disaster--he and I--when something--it does not matter what--saved
us both.

"How sincerely I thank God, now, that it was so. At the time I
suffered horribly; but it was good for me. It made me see that duty
is not merely a negative thing. And now it is all over--all over,
like a dream that is past. I am as I was. I am free!

"I seem heartless to say that. I could not say it to any one except
you--or Nance. And I even wonder if Nance could quite understand. I
feel that she must be so very much younger than myself. But you
will not misunderstand, Larry, will you? You will see that it isn't
want of heart, but just the knowledge that there is a future--a
future for me, who had ceased to believe in one!

"Just before I began this letter I stood for a long time at an open
window, looking out over Florence, lying below me in the wonderful
sunshine that comes to Italy in the spring; and quite suddenly,
Larry, I thought of England in May. England in May! It seems to
suggest a hundred, thousand things. Don't say I am disloyal! For,
of course, I want to go home to Orristown; but not just yet--not
just yet. I feel--I cannot quite explain it to you--just a little
afraid of going back to Ireland. Just at the moment it is too full
of memories. But I want to see England. I want to live in England.

"Yes; I _shall_ live in England--for the present at least. And you
and Aunt Fan must come and stay with me; and then you will report
on your stewardship! For, of course, you are still to manage
Orristown--as well and capably as you have managed it during the
last three years. I always think it was one of James's kindest
actions to me to give that management to you, though I shall always
regret that you and Aunt Fan will not make use of that big empty
house. But what is the good of tal