the fountain, whose pure, cold water
made the shadow of the surrounding acacias musical as ever. She
returned with a full pitcher; and the eagerness with which the patient
drank told how much that draught had been desired. The cardinal raised
his head, but was quite unconscious; and all that long and fearful
night had Giulietta to listen to the melancholy complainings of
delirium.

The next day, she went to meet the gardener, who had waited, though,
as he owned, in hopelessness of her coming. How forcibly the sense of
the city's desolation rose before Giulietta, when she remembered that
her ignorance of the hour proceeded from there being no one now to
wind up the church-clocks! Again she returned to the unconscious
sufferer; but little needs it to dwell on the anxiety or the exertion
in which the next three days were passed. On the early morning of the
last, as she watched over her uncle's pillow, she perceived that there
was a slight moisture on his skin, and that his sleep was sound and
untroubled. His slumbers were long and refreshing; and when he awoke
it was with perfect consciousness. Dreading the effect of agitation,
Giulietta drew her veil over her face, and to his inquiry of "was any
one there?" she answered in a low and feigned voice.

"I am faint and want food; but who, daughter, are you, who thus
venture into the chamber of sickness and death?"

"A stranger; but one whose vow is atonement."

"Giulietta!" exclaimed the cardinal, and the next moment she was at
his side; and both wept the sweetest tears ever shed by affection and
forgiveness. Eagerly she prepared for him a small portion of food, and
then, exerting the authority of a nurse, forbade all further
discourse, and, soon exhausted, he slept again.

The cool shadows of the coming evening fell on the casement, when
Giulietta first ventured to propose that she should send a letter by
the gardener to Lorenzo, and desire that a litter might be sent to
convey her uncle to their villa.

"My sweet child, do with me as you will," said the cardinal; "take me
even to the house of a Carrara."

"And nowhere could you be so welcome," said a stranger entering, and
Giulietta, springing from her knees, found herself in the arms of her
husband. "I knew, Giulietta, I should find you here, though your
letter told me but of prayer and pilgrimage."

And what now remains to be told? The cardinal accompanied them to the
villa, where his recovery was rapid and comp