e became quiet and respectful. They partook of the offered
hospitality with the best grace, and at parting escorted her to her
carriage, and took leave of her with great deference. She drove off,
wondering at their bad reputation. They probably were equally astonished
at her dignity and friendliness.

The statements of Margaret's friends touch us with their account of the
charities which this poor woman was able to afford through economy and
self-sacrifice. When she allowed herself only the bare necessaries of
living and diet, she could have the courage to lend fifty dollars to an
artist whom she deemed poorer than herself. Rich indeed was this
generous heart, to an extent undreamed of by wealthy collectors and
pleasure-seekers.

CHAPTER XVI.

MARGARET TURNS HER FACE HOMEWARD.--LAST LETTER TO HER MOTHER.--THE
BARQUE "ELIZABETH."--PRESAGES AND OMENS.--DEATH OF THE
CAPTAIN.--ANGELO'S ILLNESS.--THE WRECK.--- THE LONG STRUGGLE.--THE
END.--FINAL ESTIMATE OF MARGARET'S CHARACTER.

Return to her own country now lay immediately before Margaret. In the
land of her adoption the struggle for freedom had failed, and no human
foresight could have predicted the period of its renewal. Europe had
cried out, like the sluggard on his bed: "You have waked me too soon; I
must slumber again."

Margaret's delight in the new beauties and resources unfolded to her in
various European countries, and especially in Italy, had made the
thought of this return unwelcome to her. But now that free thought had
become contraband in the beautiful land, where should she carry her
high-hearted hopes, if not westward, with the tide of the true empire
that shall grow out of man's conquest of his own brute passions?

This holy westward way, found of Columbus, broadened and brightened by
the Pilgrims, and become an ocean highway for the nations of the earth,
lay open to her. From its farther end came to her the loving voices of
kindred, and friends of youth. There she, a mother, could "show her
babe, and make her boast," to a mother of her own. There brothers,
trained to noble manhood through her care and labor, could rise up to
requite something of what they owed her. There she could tell the story
of her Italy, with the chance of a good hearing. There, where she had
sown most precious seed in the field of the younger generations, she
would find some sheaves to bind for her own heart-harvest.

And so the last days in Florence came. The vessel