“Oh, John Hulbert is good; he is frank and true. He is not like the other. But oh, Martin, pity Lostwithiel and his sin, as you pity me and my sin! It is past and done. I was mad when I cared for him--a creature under a spell. You won my heart back to you by your goodness--you made me more than ever your own. All that he had ever been to me--all that I had ever thought or felt about him--was blotted out as if I had never seen his face. Nothing remained but my love for you--and my guilty conscience, the aching misery of knowing that I was unworthy of you.” He took her hand and pressed it gently in silence. Then, after a long pause, when she had dried the tears from her streaming eyes, and was lying faint, and white, and still, caring very little what became of her poor remnant of life, he said softly-- “I forgive you, Isola, as I pray God to forgive you. I have spent some happy years with you--not knowing. If it was a delusion, it was very sweet--while it lasted.” “It was not a delusion,” she cried, putting her arms round his neck, in a sudden rapture at being pardoned. “My love was real.” The door opened softly, and the kindly face of the Anglican priest looked in. “I have seen the lovers on their way to Florence,” he said, “and have come to ask how Mrs. Disney is after her fatiguing morning.” “I am happier than I have been for a long time,” answered Isola, holding out her hand to him. “I am prepared for the end, let it come when it may.” He knew what she meant, and that the sinner had confessed her sin. “Come out for a stroll with me, Disney,” he said, “and leave your wife to rest for a little while. I’m afraid she’ll miss her kind nurse.” Disney started up confusedly, like a sleeper awakened, and looked at his watch. “I believe I have a substitute ready to replace Allegra by this time,” he said, ringing the bell. “Has the person from England arrived?” he asked the servant. “Yes, sir. She came a quarter of an hour ago.” “Ask her to come here at once.” “Oh, Martin, you have not sent for a hospital nurse, I hope,” cried Isola, excitedly. “Indeed I am not so bad as that. I want very little help. I could not bear to have a stranger about me.” “This is not a stranger, Isola.” There came a modest knock at the door as he spoke. “Come in,” he said; and a familiar figure in a grey merino gown and smart white cap with pink ribbons entered quietly and came to the sofa where Isola was lying. “Tabitha!” she cried. “Don’t say you’re sorry to see an old face again, Mrs. Disney. I told Mr. Martin that if you should ever be ill and want nursing I’d come to nurse you--if you were at the other end of the world--and Mr. Martin wrote and told me you wanted an old servant’s care and experience to get you over your illness--and here I am. I’ve come every inch of the way without stopping, except at the buffets, and all I can say is Rome is a long way from everywhere, and the country I’ve come through isn’t to be compared with Cornwall.”