dressed in black, and crying often, and then I knew that the poor
child's mother was dead, and, as far as I knew, she was alone in the
world. The flowers came no more for many days, nor did she show any sign
of recognition, but kept her eyes on her work, except when she placed
her handkerchief to them. And opposite to her was the old lady's chair,
and I could see that, from time to time, she would lay down her work and
gaze at it, and then a flood of tears would come to her relief. But at
last one day she roused herself to nod to me, and then her flower came,
day by day, and my flower went forth to join it, and with varying
fortunes the two flowers sailed away as of yore.

But the darkest day of all to me was when a good-looking young
gondolier, standing right end uppermost in his gondola (for I could see
_him_ in the flesh), worked his craft alongside the house, and stood
talking to her as she sat on the balcony. They seemed to speak as old
friends--indeed, as well as I could make out, he held her by the hand
during the whole of their interview which lasted quite half an hour.
Eventually he pushed off, and left my heart heavy within me. But I soon
took heart of grace, for as soon as he was out of sight, the little maid
threw two flowers growing on the same stem--an allegory of which I could
make nothing, until it broke upon me that she meant to convey to me
that he and she were brother and sister, and that I had no cause to be
sad. And thereupon I nodded to her cheerily, and she nodded to me, and
laughed aloud, and I laughed in return, and all went on again as before.

Then came a dark and dreary time, for it became necessary that I should
undergo treatment that confined me absolutely to my bed for many days,
and I worried and fretted to think that the little maid and I should see
each other no longer, and worse still, that she would think that I had
gone away without even hinting to her that I was going. And I lay awake