In two days more--by the help of the special Providence that, as I love to tell you, watches over Hilda--she shall rejoin you." "Still two days more!" murmured the sculptor.
"Ah, you are cruel now! More cruel than you know!" exclaimed Miriam, with another gleam of that fantastic, fitful gayety, which had more than once marked her manner during this interview.

"Spare your poor friends!" "I know not what you mean, Miriam," said Kenyon.
"No matter," she replied; "you will understand hereafter.

But could you think it?
Here is Donatello haunted with strange remorse, and an unmitigable resolve to obtain what he deems justice upon himself.

He fancies, with a kind of direct simplicity, which I have vainly tried to combat, that, when a wrong has been done, the doer is bound to submit himself to whatsoever tribunal takes cognizance of such things, and abide its judgment.

I have assured him that there is no such thing as earthly justice, and especially none here, under the head of Christendom." "We will not argue the point again," said Donatello, smiling.