Once more she arose, and looked forth on the desolate city and the
stormy sky, but now with mild and unshrinking eyes. Her recollections
of the past grew tender in their youthful grief; her thoughts for the
future became patient, solemn, and serene. Images of her first and her
last-left protector, of her old familiar home, of her garden solitude on
the Pincian Mount, spread beautiful before her imagination as resting-
places to her weary heart. She descended the steps of the summer-house
with no apprehension of her enemies, no doubt of her resolution; for she
knew the beacon that was now to direct her onward course. The tears
gathered full in her eyes as she passed into the garden; but her step
never faltered, her features never lost their combined expression of
tranquil sorrow and subdued hope. So she once more entered the perilous
streets, and murmuring to herself, 'My father! my father!' as if in
those simple words lay the hand that was to guide, and the providence
that was to preserved her, she began to trace her solitary way in the
direction of the Pincian Mount.
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