At length Mrs. Thornton rose. “Lama,” said she, at last, in a low, sad voice, “let us go to the piano.”
“Will you sing the Ave Maria” he asked, mournfully.
“I dare not,” said she, hastily. “No, anything but that. I will sing Rossini’s Cujus Animam.”
Then followed those words which tell in lofty strains of a broken heart:
Cujus animam gementem
Contristatam et flebentem
Pertransivit gladius!
CHAPTER XXVII. — JOURNAL OF PAOLO LANGHETTI.
When Mrs. Thornton saw Despard next she showed him a short note which she had just received from her brother, accompanying his journal. Nearly two years had elapsed since she had last heard from him.
His journal was written as before at long intervals, and was as follows: