she said, and she would be there to meet him at the door.
We strolled through the fine superfluous hall, where on

the marble floor--particularly as at first we said nothing--
our footsteps were more audible than I had expected.

When we reached the other end--the wide window, inveterately closed,
connecting with the balcony that overhung the canal--

I suggested that we should remain there, as she would see
the doctor arrive still better. I opened the window and we passed

out on the balcony. The air of the canal seemed even heavier,
hotter than that of the sala. The place was hushed and void;

the quiet neighborhood had gone to sleep. A lamp, here and there,
over the narrow black water, glimmered in double; the voice

of a man going homeward singing, with his jacket on his
shoulder and his hat on his ear, came to us from a distance.

This did not prevent the scene from being very comme il faut,
as Miss Bordereau had called it the first time I saw her.

Presently a gondola passed along the canal with its slow
rhythmical plash, and as we listened we watched it in silence.

It did not stop, it did not carry the doctor; and after it
had gone on I said to Miss Tita:

"And where are they now--the things that were in the trunk?"
"In the trunk?"

"That green box you pointed out to me in her room.
You said her papers had been there; you seemed to imply that she

had transferred them."
"Oh, yes; they are not in the trunk," said Miss Tita.

"May I ask if you have looked?"
"Yes, I have looked--for you."

"How for me, dear Miss Tita? Do you mean you would have given them
to me if you had found them?" I asked, almost trembling.

She delayed to reply and I waited. Suddenly she broke out,
"I don't know what I would do--what I wouldn't!"

"Would you look again--somewhere else?"
She had spoken with a strange unexpectedemotion, and she went

on in the same tone: "I can't--I can't--while she lies there.
It isn't decent."

"No, it isn't decent," I replied gravely. "Let the poor lady rest
in peace." And the words, on my lips, were not hypocritical,

for I felt reprimanded and shamed.
Miss Tita added in a moment, as if she had guessed this

and were sorry for me, but at the same time wished to explain
that I did drive her on or at least did insist too much:

"I can't deceive her that way. I can't deceive her--
perhaps on her deathbed."

"Heaven forbid I should ask you, though I have been guilty myself!"
"You have been guilty?"

"I have sailed under false colors." I felt now as if I must tell
her that I had given her an invented name, on account of my fear

that her aunt would have heard of me and would refuse to take me in.
I explained this and also that I had really been a party to the letter

written to them by John Cumnor months before.
She listened with great attention, looking at me with parted lips,

and when I had made my confession she said, "Then your real name--
what is it?" She repeated it over twice when I had told her,

accompanying it with the exclamation "Gracious, gracious!"
Then she added, "I like your own best."

"So do I," I said, laughing. "Ouf! it's a relief to get rid
of the other."

"So it was a regular plot--a kind of conspiracy?"
"Oh, a conspiracy--we were only two," I replied, leaving out

Mrs. Prest of course.
She hesitated; I thought she was perhaps going to say that we had been

very base. But she remarked after a moment, in a candid, wondering way,
"How much you must want them!"

"Oh, I do, passionately!" I conceded, smiling. And this chance
made me go on, forgetting my compunction of a moment before.

"How can she possibly have changed their place herself?
How can she walk? How can she arrive at that sort of muscular exertion?

How can she lift and carry things?"
"Oh, when one wants and when one has so much will!" said Miss Tita,

as if she had thought over my question already herself and had simply
had no choice but that answer--the idea that in the dead of night,

or at some moment when the coast was clear, the old woman had been
capable of a miraculous effort.

"Have you questioned Olimpia? Hasn't she helped her--hasn't she
done it for her?" I asked; to which Miss Tita replied promptly and

positively that their servant had had nothing to do with the matter,
though without admitting definitely" target="_blank" title="ad.明确地；绝对">definitely that she had spoken to her.

It was as if she were a little shy, a little ashamed now of letting me
see how much she had entered into my uneasiness and had me on her mind.

Suddenly she said to me, without any immediate relevance:
"I feel as if you were a new person, now that you have got a new name."

"It isn't a new one; it is a very good old one, thank heaven!"
She looked at me a moment. "I do like it better."

"Oh, if you didn't I would almost go on with the other!"
"Would you really?"

I laughed again, but for all answer to this inquiry I said,
"Of course if she can rummage about that way she can perfectly

have burnt them."
"You must wait--you must wait," Miss Tita moralized mournfully;

and her tone ministered little to my patience, for it
seemed after all to accept that wretchedpossibility.

I would teach myself to wait, I declared nevertheless;
because in the first place I could not do otherwise and in

the second I had her promise, given me the other night,
that she would help me.

"Of course if the papers are gone that's no use," she said;
not as if she wished to recede, but only to be conscientious.

"Naturally. But if you could only find out!" I groaned, quivering again.
"I thought you said you would wait."

"Oh, you mean wait even for that?"
"For what then?"

"Oh, nothing," I replied, rather foolishly, being ashamed
to tell her what had been implied in my submission to delay--

the idea that she would do more than merely find out.
I know not whether she guessed this; at all events she appeared

to become aware of the necessity for being a little more rigid.
"I didn't promise to deceive, did I? I don't think I did."

"It doesn't much matter whether you did or not, for you couldn't!"
I don't think Miss Tita would have contested this event had she not been

diverted by our seeing the doctor's gondola shoot into the little canal
and approach the house. I noted that he came as fast as if he believed

that Miss Bordereau was still in danger. We looked down at him
while he disembarked and then went back into the sala to meet him.

When he came up however I naturally left Miss Tita to go off with him alone,
only asking her leave to come back later for news.

I went out of the house and took a long walk, as far as the Piazza,
where my restlessness declined to quit me. I was unable to sit down

(it was very late now but there were people still at the little
tables in front of the cafes); I could only walk round and round,

and I did so half a dozen times. I was uncomfortable, but it gave
me a certain pleasure to have told Miss Tita who I really was.

At last I took my way home again, slowly getting all but
inextricably lost, as I did whenever I went out in Venice:

so that it was considerably past midnight when I reached my door.