her cheek has grown fuller, and its rosy tint is no longer hectic, but
the true dye of health; and instead of that slow step and bent-down
head, her walk is firm and her air erect; while her spirits, no longer
varying from high excitement to deep depression, are uniformly good and
animated. Life is opening in all its bloom to her, as rapidly as its
shadows are closing and gathering around me. Were it mine to bestow,
how gladly would I give what remains of flickering life to strengthen
the newly-sprung vitality, her light step, her brilliant smile and dark
blue eye! That coming back to health, from out of the very shadow of
death, must be a glorious sensation! The sudden outbursting of all this
fair world's joys, on a spirit over which the shade of sickness has only
swept, and not rested long enough to leave its blight. I think I read in
that almost heroic elevation of sentiment, that exquisite perception
of whatever is beautiful in Lucy, the triumph of returning energy and
health. She is less fanciful and less capricious, too. Formerly, the
least remark, in which she construed a difference of opinion, would
distress or irritate her, and her temper appeared rather under the sway
of momentary impulse than the guidance of right principle. Now, she
accepts even correction, mildly and gratefully, and if a sudden spark of
former haste flash forth, she seems eager to check and repress it; she
acts as though she felt that restored health imposed more restraint and
less of self-indulgence than sickness. How happy if one were only to
bring out of the sick chamber its teaching of submission, patience, and
gratitude, and leave behind its egotism and its irritability! This she
would appear to aim at; and to strive is to win.

And now I quit this chronicling to join her. Already she is on her way
to the boat, and we are going to see Pliny's villa; at least the dark
and shadowy nook where it once stood. The lake is still as a mirror,
and a gorgeous mirror it is, reflecting a scene of faery brilliancy and
beauty. She is waving her handkerchief to me to come. "_Vengo, subito_."

This has been a delightful day. We rowed along past Melzi till we
came under the tall cliffs near Bellagio; and there, in a little bay,
land-locked and shaded by olive-trees, we dined. I had never seen Sir
Gordon so thoroughly happy. When Lucy's spirits have been higher, and
her fancy has taken wilder and bolder wings, he has usually worn a
look of anxiety throu