his statements in
regard to himself were true that I in any sense considered the question
of marriage with him. To be obliged always to talk French or Italian was
not to my liking, and to marry anybody but a compatriot seemed very
unpatriotic. But I loved him, and that was the solution of the whole
matter. His kindness to us was without limit, and tendered in the most
graceful and grateful manner. He knew some excellent English families
who were living in Paris, whose acquaintance we afterward made, and who
spoke of him in the highest terms of esteem.

"As the winter set in, Helen and I arranged to go to Italy. My friend
was to take advantage of our departure to go to his 'provincial estates'
on business, and afterward to join us in Italy. He gave us a letter to
the Greek consul at Rome, a friend of his, to whose care he would
confide his letters, and who, he thought, might be of real service to
us notwithstanding our own ambassadorial corps there.

"My separation from him proved to me in a thousandfold manner how deep
and strong was the bond that bound me to him. We had scarcely more than
become well settled in Rome than a letter arrived which he had mailed at
Vienna, and which the polite consul came and delivered in person. And
what a letter it was!--only a page or two, but words alive with the love
and passion of his heart. And that was the last letter, as it was the
first, that I ever received from him. The cause of his silence none of
us could tell. He knew that a letter sent to me in care of any one of
the American consuls in Paris or in Italy would reach me. As the mystery
of his silence deepened the attentions of the consul became more
assiduous. For some reason I did not like the man, although he was very
kind and gentlemanly. Once he lightly remarked that doubtless 'our
friend had been _epris_ by some fair Austrian blond;' and the suggestion
filled me with shame. Who knew but it might be true--that the man fell
in love with every pretty new face--for mine was called beautiful
then--and that after an entertaining season of flirtation he had bid me
adieu? Of course I blamed myself for having been so confiding as to be
deceived by a handsome adventurer without principle or honor. I cannot
tell you what agony I suffered. I begged Helen to go on to Naples, for
Rome had become very hateful to me. But at Rome, as you know, Helen fell
ill with Roman fever, and died, and I returned to Rome to bury her body
there in t