Have I
more to write? Only a word or two, to tell you that I am earning
my bread, as I always wished to earn it, quietly at home--at
least, at what I must call home now. I am living with reputable
people, and I want for nothing. La Biondella has grown very much;
she would hardly be obliged to get on your knee to kiss you now;
and she can plait her dinner-mats faster and more neatly than
ever. Our old dog is with us, and has learned two new tricks; but
you can't be expected to remember him, although you were the only
stranger I ever saw him take kindly to at first.
"It is time I finished. If you have read this letter through to
the end, I am sure you will excuse me if I have written it badly.
There is no date to it, because I feel that it is safest and best
for both of us that you should know nothing of where I am living.
I bless you and pray for you, and bid you affectionately
farewell. If you can think of me as a sister, think of me
sometimes still."
Fabio sighed bitterly while he read the letter. "Why," he
whispered to himself, "why does it come at such a time as this,
when I cannot dare not think of her?" As he slowly folded the
letter up the tears came into his eyes, and he half raised the
paper to his lips. At the same moment, some one knocked at the
door of the room. He started, and felt himself changing color
guiltily as one of his servants entered.
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