lesticks just above our heads--"all that I can tell
you," she added slowly. "You will understand that I cannot speak about the
happiest part of it. But you have seen Robert. The only thing that
troubles me is that I have no sorrow. It seems dangerous. Dear Nat,
although he has all he ever hoped for, need not fear being too happy,
because he has the ever-present pain, to make him earnest and keep him
ready for more pain. I said so to him the day before I came away, and he
gave me those verses I told you of, called 'The Angel of Pain,'"

Then she repeated them to me:--

The Angel of Pain.

Angel of Pain, I think thy face
Will be, in all the heavenly place,
The sweetest face that I shall see,
The swiftest face to smile on me.
All other angels faint and tire;
Joy wearies, and forsakes desire;
Hope falters, face to face with Fate,
And dies because it cannot wait;
And Love cuts short each loving day,
Because fond hearts cannot obey
That subtlest law which measures bliss
By what it is content to miss.
But thou, O loving, faithful Pain--
Hated, reproached, rejected, slain--
Dost only closer cling and bless
In sweeter, stronger steadfastness.
Dear, patient angel, to thine own
Thou comest, and art never known
Till late, in some lone twilight place
The light of thy transfigured face
Sudden shines out, and, speechless, they
Know they have walked with Christ all day.

When she had done we sat for some time silent. Then I rose, and kissing
her, still silent, went out into the unlighted room where the gilt table
stood. A beam of moonlight fell, broad and white, across its top, and
flickered on the vine-leaves and the ferns. In the dim weird light their
shapes were more fantastic than ever.

The door into the outer hall stood open. As I went toward it, I saw old
Anita toiling slowly up the stairs, with a flat basket on her head. Her
wrinkled face was all aglow with delight. As soon as she reached the
threshold she set the basket down, and exclaiming, "Oh look, look,
Signora!" lifted off the cover. It was full of fresh and beautiful
anemones of all colors. She moved a few on top and showed me that those
beneath were chiefly purple ones.

"Iddio mio! will not the dearest of Signoras be pleased now!" she said.
"The saints wish that she shall have all she desires; did not my Biagio's
brother come in from Albano this morning? and as I was in the Piazza
Navona, buying oranges, I h