After the procession, which ended only with the day, was the "Miserere" in the cathedral, late in the evening. It was something to remember, that cathedral seen by night, when not even the great Monumento, a blaze of lamps and candles from the floor to the ceiling, can light it or disturb for an instant the solemn shadows that lurk in its vast roof and wide-stretching chapels.
Then there was the high mass of Easter morning, and the bull-fight of Sunday afternoon.
"I am glad I went, though it has made me sick," Aurora said. "It was grand, that great circle of people; and those bulls were grander still, with their superb heads and shoulders. It has made me sick; but I have known more cruel things done by people who thought that they were good. A fox-hunt is quite as cruel, and it is mean, besides. The cruelty of the bull-fight is frank, and there is something manly in it, because there is danger. I am glad to have had an opportunity to form my own opinion on the subject." And, saying that she was glad, and reasoning upon the subject, Aurora burst into tears, and sank, trembling, into an armchair. She had seen six great black bulls of Utrera fall, after a desperate defence, and thirteen horses rent open like paper balloons on their sharp, swift lances.
"Here is a letter for you, from Sassovivo," Mrs. Lindsey said. "Forget the tori, and read it. It will do you good."
Aurora opened the letter with a faint smile: "I haven't an idea who it is from. The writing is strange."
Mrs. Lindsay seated herself by the window to look out, and remained there long enough, as she said to herself, for a dozen letters to be read. Then she looked round to see if the wished-for cure had been effected.
Aurora sat where she had left her, her eyes looking down at the letter, which had dropped into her lap, and her face perfectly white.
"My dear, what has happened? Who has written to you?" her friend cried, starting up.
Aurora silently placed the letter in her hand. She seemed unable to utter a word.
Mrs. Lindsay read:
"My dear Contessina,—I feel quite as though I were acquainted with you, though we have never met, and therefore have no hesitation in writing you confidentially, being quite sure that your delicacy will direct you aright in the affair I wish to open to you.
"I have learned that your mother and yourself have a lease of Castle Cagliostro, and that a written contract was given you. That was all very well while the poor dear countess was alive; but of course you know that her death changed everything, and that it would not be at all prudent for you to live there now, even with a companion.
"The mistress of a place can always do as she pleases, no matter how young she may be; and a companion has but to obey, no matter how old, or prudent, or respectable she may be. I am sure, my dear contessina, that you have never seriously contemplated living in this way; and if I can in any way aid you in finding a suitable home, pray let me know. I shall be most happy to assist you, and there is no doubt but I shall be able to find you some charming family who will be charmed with you.
"The castle is just what I want for two cousins of mine who will come here soon. I expect them in a few weeks. I mentioned the subject to the duke, but he did not like to take any step in the matter, as it might look as if he were trying to shirk a contract after having made it. I told him that I would write and arrange all.
"Please let me know at once what you wish to do, and believe me, my dear contessina,
"Laura D'Rubiera."
"The sly creature!" exclaimed Mrs. Lindsay, crushing the letter in her hand. "It is just what I thought she was! I have seen her."
