CHAPTER IV.
She was standing at a turn in the road, where the eye swept a wider range of sapphire-coloured sea, which, followed with its narrow white fringe the indentations of the Italian coast. To the right, the san had already disappeared behind the mountain; but the little town was still backed by a pale, unclouded sky, suffused with gold, against which the piled-up houses stood out in purple-brown relief. This was a view of which Elizabeth never tired. Here it seemed as if she were above and beyond the cares that beset her at the hotel lying there below. The infinite expanse of sea and sky brought a calm with it which entered into her soul. She was unhappy. She had many reasons for being so; but each afternoon of late she had found it restful to come here, and, as it were, release her mind from the bandages of restraint so tightly swathed around her thoughts in the presence of Hatty and her brother.
She did not doubt but that the dear little woman, whom she had grown to love like a sister, was dying. It might be very soon, it might be a little later; but the end could not be far off. What should she do then? Where should she go—feeling, as she would, so much
