"What are you going to do, then?" he said.
"I don't know. I--I want a hiding-place."
She saw tears come into his old, faded eyes.
"Hush!" he said. "Don't-"
"A hiding-place. I want to travel a long way off and be quite alone, and
think, and see how I can go on, if I can go on."
Her voice was quite steady.
"If I could do something--anything for you!" he murmured.
"You fancy you are still speaking to the woman who sang, Sir Donald."
"Would you--" Suddenly he spoke with some eagerness. "You want to go
away, to be alone?"
"Yes, I must."
"Let me lend you Casa Felice!"
"Casa Felice!"
She laughed.
"To be sure; I was to baptise it, wasn't I?"
"Ah, that--will you have it for a while?"
"But you are going there!"
"I will not go. It is all ready. The servants are engaged. You will be
perfectly looked after, perfectly comfortable. Let me feel I can do
something for you. Try it. You will find beauty there--peace. And I--I
shall be on the lake, not far off."
"I must be alone," she said wearily.
"You shall be. I will never come unless you send for me."
"I should never send for you or for anyone."
She did not say then what she would do, but three days later she accepted
Sir Donald's offer.
And now she was alone in Casa Felice. She had not even brought her French
maid, but had engaged an Italian. She was resolved to isolate herself
with people who had never seen her as a beautiful woman.
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