It was quite successful--I
have no pain. The doctors give me seven or eight months. Then my enemy
will come back--and my rest with him."
A cry escaped Diana as she buried her face in her friend's lap. Marion
kissed and comforted her.
"If you only knew how happy I am!" she said, in a low voice. "Ever since
I was a child I seem to have fought--fought hard for every step--every
breath. I fought for bread first--and self-respect--for myself--then for
others. One seemed to be hammering at shut gates or climbing precipices
with loads that dragged one down. Such trouble always!" she murmured,
with closed eyes--"such toil and anguish of body and brain! And now it
is all over!"--she raised herself joyously--"I am already on the farther
side. I am like St. Francis--waiting. And meanwhile I have a dear
friend--who loves me. I can't let him marry me. Pain and disease and
mutilation--of all those horrors, as far as I can, he shall know
nothing. He shall not nurse me; he shall only love and lead me. But I
have been thirsting for beautiful things all my life--and he is giving
them to me. I have dreamed of Italy since I was a baby, and here I am! I
have seen Rome and Florence.
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