I have had so little home since long, long ago my mother died, and now
I am to have one as the maid in the picture has. We will marry the fifth
day of May at five o'clock, and will wish you to be there. Don't forget
me.
"LILLIA."
"Signor Bero has added a postscript, Mae, which you can translate better
than I." And Norman handed her the letter. Mae translated it thus:
"Did you know all that the picture would say to me, Signorina? Receive
my thanks for it, too, and believe I shall always live worthy of my
Italy, my wife and friends that I see in the picture, and of another
friend who lives so far away, whom I shall never see again, if I have
such a friend. Think of my beautiful Lillia on our wedding day. We shall
be married at St. Andrea's, at vesper time.
"Bero."
"And this is the day," said Mae, dropping the note.
"And the very hour, allowing the bride and the sun a few minutes each,"
added Norman, glancing at the clock.
They gaze quietly out of the window of their lodgings on the Borgo
Ognissante, but Mae sees far away beyond the Arno, into the church of
St.
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