The door by the fountain will be unlocked, and come up the balcony steps to my sitting-room.
The balcony window will be open.

You know that I should not ask you to do this unless it was urgent.

Will you fail me at the last?
For we shall never meet again, Michael!_" Fay closed the note, directed it, pinned it into the lace of her inmost vest--the wife of an Italian distrusts pockets and postal arrangements--and then wept her heart out, her vain, selfish little heart, which for the first time in her life was not wholly vain, nor wholly selfish.

Perhaps it was not her fault if she was cruel.

It takes many steadfast years, many prayers, many acts of humble service before we may hope to reach the place where we are content to bear alone the brunt of that pang, and to guard the one we love even from ourselves..