Aunt Lucy he should leave for
Florence on the following Monday, and with a heavy heart he said good-by
to her when the festivities of the day were over, and went back to his
hotel.

CHAPTER II.

FAREWELL.

It was Sunday, and the gay pageant of the carnival was moving through
the Via Nazzionale, on which the Hotel du Quirinal stands. This was the
grandest, gayest day of all, and the spectacle which the long street
presented, as carriage after carriage, and company after company pressed
on, had in it nothing of the calm, quiet repose which we are wont to
associate with Sunday. It was not Sunday to the throng of masqueraders
filling the streets, or the multitude of spectators crowding the
balconies and windows of the tall houses on either side of the way. But
to the little group of friends gathered in the room where Bessie lay it
was the holy Sabbath time, and, save when by the opening of some door
across the hall a strain of music or shout of merriment was borne to
their ears, they would never have guessed what was passing. The fever
had burned itself out on Bessie's cheeks and left them colorless as
marble; while in her eyes, so large and heavy with restlessness and
pain, there was a look of recognition, and on the pale lips a smile for
those around her. She had known them all since the early morning, when,
awaking from a heavy sleep, she called her mother by name, and asked
where she was and what had happened to her.

The last three weeks had been a blank, and they broke it to her
gradually, and told her of Grey Jerrold's presence, and how she had
mistaken him for Neil, from whom they had that day heard, and who would
be with them on Monday. It was Flossie who told Bessie this last, as
she kissed the white forehead, and said through her tears:

"I am so glad to see you better; it nearly broke my heart when I thought
that you might die--and Mr. Jerrold, too, I am sure would have died if
you had. Oh, Bessie, I never saw this Neil, but he can not be as nice as
Mr. Jerrold, who, next to Sir Jack, is the best man in the world."

"Hush, Flossie!" Bessie whispered, for she had not strength to speak
aloud, "such things are over with me now. I shall never see Sir Jack
again; never see Neil, for when he comes to-morrow I shall not be here."

"Oh, Bessie," Flossie cried, with a great gush of tears; but Bessie
motioned her to be silent, and went on:

"Tell Sir Jack that I might have loved him had I seen him first,