"Have patience, we shall return to Italy some day; but believe me, when once winter goes, England is not such a dreadful country. In summer it is beautiful, and the flowers compare well with those at home."
"Flowers! I don't believe there are any here, not at least in this cruel city, with its yellow fogs and its sunless abodes."
Rica sighed deeply as he kissed her, and turned to go out into the snowy night. It grieved him to see Marietta utterly broken down. She had failed in her first trial. But then, she was so beautiful, she ought to have been a princess instead of the daughter of a poor fisherman. It was all a mistake.
II.
In the garden of a house that was inscribed "To Let" there grew a sad and solitary Christmas Rose, that lifted up pathetic complaint to the leaden sky.
Night heard her, and went to comfort her. He was enchanted with her beauty, and she lifted her face to receive his soft caresses.
