“You forget, mother,” the girl said, triumphantly; “was it not you yourself who asked me if I had ever heard of one Bartolotti?”

The mother uttered a slight cry of alarm.

“No, no, Natalushka, I beg of you—­”

The girl took her mother in her arms and kissed her.  There was a strange joy in her face; the eyes were no longer haggard, but full of light and hope.

“You dear mother,” she said, as she gently compelled her to be seated again, “that is the place for you.  You will remain here, quiet, undisturbed by any fears; no one shall molest you; and when you have quite recovered from all your sufferings, and when your courage has returned to you, then I will come back and tell you my story.  It is story for story, is it not?"’

She rung the bell.

“Pardon me, dear mother; there is no time to be lost.  For once I return to my father’s house—­yes, there is a card there that I must have—­”

“But afterward, child, where do you go?” the mother said, though she could scarcely find utterance.

“Why, to Naples, mother; I am an experienced traveller; I shall need no courier.”

The blood had mounted into both cheek and forehead; her eyes were full of life and pride; even at such a moment the anxious, frightened mother was forced to think she had never seen her daughter look so beautiful.

The door opened.

“Madame, be so good as to tell Anneli that I am ready.”

She turned to her mother.

“Now, mother, it is good-bye for I do not know how long.”

“Oh no, it is not, child,” said the other, trembling, and yet smiling in spite of all her fears.  “If you are going to travel, you must have a courier.  I will be your courier, Natalushka.”

“Will you come with me, mother?” she cried, with a happy light leaping to her eyes.  “Come, then—­we will give courage to each other, you and I, shall we not?  Ah, dear mother, you have told me your story only in time; but we will go quickly now—­you and I together!”

CHAPTER XLV.

SOUTHWARD.

After so much violent emotion the rapid and eager preparations for travel proved a useful distraction.  There was no time to lose; and Natalie very speedily found that it was she herself who must undertake the duties of a courier, her mother being far too anxious and alarmed.  Once or twice, indeed, the girl, regarding the worn, sad face, almost repented of having accepted that impulsive offer, and would have proposed to start alone.  But she knew that, left in solitude, the poor distressed mother would only torture herself with imaginary fears.  As for herself, she had no fear; her heart was too full to have any room for fear.  And yet her hand trembled a little as she sat down to write these two messages of farewell.  The first ran thus: 

“My Father,—­To-day, for the first time, I have heard my mother’s story from herself.  I have looked into her eyes; I know she speaks the truth.  You will not wonder then that I leave your house—­that I go with her; there must be some one to try to console her for all she has suffered, and I am her daughter.  I thank you for many years of kindness, and pray God to bless you.