,
and she said, "Let Caponsacchi come."

She remembers little after that, but the enfolding tenderness which
secured the fulfilment of her hope. She describes nothing after the
"tap" at the door, which was the beginning of the end. She has attained
the crown of her woman's existence, and she can bear no resentment
towards him whose cruelty embittered, and whose vengeance has cut it
short. The motherly heart in her goes out to the wicked husband who was
also once a child, and strives to palliate what he has done. "He was
sinned against as well as sinning. Her poor parents were blind and
unjust in their mode of retaliating upon him. She was blind and foolish
in doing nothing to heal the breach. Her earthly goods have been a
snare to Guido; she herself was an importunate presence to him. By God's
grace he will be the better for having swept her from his path. She
thanks him for destroying in her that bodily life which was his to
pollute, and for leaving her soul free. Her infant shall have been born
of no earthly father. It is the child of its mother's love."

And this love for her child overflows in gratitude to him who saved her
for it--a gratitude which is also something more. She has recoiled from
the idea of being united to a priest by any bond of earthly affection;
but the knowledge is growing upon her that her bond to Caponsacchi _is_
love, though it assumes an ideal character in her innocence, her
ignorance, and the exaltation of feeling which denotes her approaching
death. She has recalled the incidents of her flight, but only to bear
witness to Caponsacchi's virtues: his watchful kindness, his chivalrous
courage, the unselfishness which could risk life and honour without
thought of reward, the priestly dignity which he never set aside. Her
last words contain an invocation to himself which has all the passion of
earthly tenderness, and all the solemnity of a prayer. She addresses him
as her soldier-saint--as the friend "her only, all her own," who is
closest to her now on her final journey; whose love shall sustain, whose
strong hand shall guide her, on the unknown path she is about to tread.
She thinks he would not marry if he could. True marriage is in heaven,
where there is no making of contracts, with gold on one side, power or
youth or beauty on the other, but one is "man and wife at once when the
true time is." Would either of them wish the past undone? Her soul says
"No."

"So, let him wait God's