Page:Francesca Carrara 2.pdf/331

328 steps, till the beating of her own heart was the only sound that broke the deep solitude; but theirs being an up-hill path, she could see them a long way off, arm-in-arm, and Lawrence Aylmer looking into the sweet face of his child. The sight of their affectionate familiarity recalled Francesca to the full sense of her desolation. She was in a strange country, without an acknowledged tie of kindred—no friends—and with a future full of uncertainty and anxiety—she started to her feet, and wrung her hands, as one painful thought crowded on another. She looked towards the new-made grave. There lay all that was dear to her on earth,—never more would that kindly voice fall in music on her ear—never more would the soul look through those eyes now closed for ever! She felt how irrevocable and how entire was the loss while the abandoned and desolate future seemed already present; and, in a sudden burst of grief, she flung herself down on the grave,—one murmur upon her pale lips,—"Alone!—ay, utterly alone!"

END OF VOL. II.

LONDON: