Morning is dawning as I write, and all the feeling of my soul can be expressed in one word, the sublimest of all words, which is intelligible to many of different languages and different races. I will end with this:
“Alleluia!”
CHAPTER XXVIII. — THIS MUST END.
The note which accompanied Langhetti’s journal was as follows:
“HALIFAX, December 18, 1848.
“TERESUOLA VIA DOLCISSIMA,—I send you my journal, sorella carissima. I have been silent for a long time. Forgive me. I have been sad and in affliction. But affliction has turned to joy, and I have learned things unknown before.
“Teresina mia, I am coming back to England immediately. You may expect to see me at any time during the next three months. She will be with me; but so sensitive is she—so strange would she be to you—that I do not know whether it will be well for you to see her or not. I dare not let her be exposed to the gaze of any one unknown to her. Yet, sweetest sorellina, perhaps I may be able to tell her that I have a dearest sister, whose heart is love, whose nature is noble, and who could treat her with tenderest care.
“I intend to offer my Opera to the world at London. I will be my own impresario. Yet I want one thing, and that is a Voice. Oh for a Voice like that of Bice! But it is idle to wish for her.