"I seem heartless to say that. I could not say it to any one except you--or Nance. And I even wonder if Nance could quite understand. I feel that she must be so very much younger than myself. But you will not misunderstand, Larry, will you? You will see that it isn't want of heart, but just the knowledge that there is a future--a future for me, who had ceased to believe in one! "Just before I began this letter I stood for a long time at an open window, looking out over Florence, lying below me in the wonderful sunshine that comes to Italy in the spring; and quite suddenly, Larry, I thought of England in May. England in May! It seems to suggest a hundred, thousand things. Don't say I am disloyal! For, of course, I want to go home to Orristown; but not just yet--not just yet. I feel--I cannot quite explain it to you--just a little afraid of going back to Ireland. Just at the moment it is too full of memories. But I want to see England. I want to live in England. "Yes; I _shall_ live in England--for the present at least. And you and Aunt Fan must come and stay with me; and then you will report on your stewardship! For, of course, you are still to manage Orristown--as well and capably as you have managed it during the last three years. I always think it was one of James's kindest actions to me to give that management to you, though I shall always regret that you and Aunt Fan will not make use of that big empty house. But what is the good of talking! The Asshlins are all disgustingly proud. "I can see you smile as you read this, and perhaps I can hear you say: 'How like Clo!' I hope--oh, Larry, I hope I can! "Give them all my love--Hannah, Burke, the dogs, and Polly. Dear, pretty Polly! How I crave sometimes for just one long, wild gallop. She must be eight years old by now; and yet she looks as fit as ever--you said so in your letter of a month ago. Dear, pretty Polly!