"Your experience in Christians must have been limited, I think," said Mary, smiling.
"Perhaps so; but I am quite satisfied to have you for my standard. Why, are you going? Oh! please don't leave me. I can't bear to be alone."
"I must go now. I will come to-morrow at eleven o'clock, and if you feel equal to the effort, we will go to San Marco."
"I shall feel equal to it physically," said Lady Sackvil. "It's very provoking. I meant to have a brain-fever and die, and I feel better every minute. I wish you had not come to take care of me."
"This is the beginning of your heroic virtue, I suppose," said Mary; "these are the first fruits of conversion. Good-by, neophyte! Disturb yourself about nothing; remember only that God loves us with a love too deep to be fathomed."
And then she went home, and sat down by the ashes that Lady Sackvil had left on her domestic hearth.
XVI.
In the morning, she found Lady Sackvil taking breakfast in her own room, looking pale and worn from the effects of reaction from fever and excitement. "How do you feel?" she asked.
"Horribly cross. I think all other sensations are merged in ill-temper."
"A certain sign of convalescence. I am glad to see it."