So, step by step, and hurt by hurt, Ruth was learning that John Smith was John Smith and nobody else. “I first saw you crossing the river Arno, after a spring rain had spoiled the day for everyone except the ducks. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. ’ ‘Dear me. Even were she to get an opportunity to scream, it would be some time before such a call, unprecedented though it might be, brought the nuns so much out of their absorption that they interrupted their prayer to investigate.
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