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149 STRAIT IS THE GATE

had had everything against it: the scene, the personages, the time of year — and even our correspondence, whose impassioned tone had prepared us for it with so little prudence. This time it should be preceded only by silence. I wished it to take place in the spring, at Fongueusemare, where my uncle would let me stay during the Easter holidays, for as long or as short a time as she herself should think fit. My determination was firmly taken and as soon as my letter had gone I was able to bury myself in my work.

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I was to see Alissa once more before the end of the year. Miss Ashburton, whose health had been declining for some months past, died four days before Christmas. On my return from my military service I had gone back to stay with her. I left her very little and was present at her last moments. A card from Alissa showed me that our vow of silence lay nearer her heart than my bereavement: she would come up, she said , for the day, just to go to the funeral, which my uncle would not be able to attend.

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