Romola went along with winged feet, blessing that incident of the Carnival which had made her learn by heart the appearance of this necklace. Soon she was at the house she sought. The young woman and the children were in the inner room—were to have been fetched away a fortnight ago and more—had no money, only their clothes, to pay a poor widow with for their food and lodging. But since madonna knew them—Romola waited to hear no more, but opened the door.
Tessa was seated on the low bed: her crying had passed into tearless sobs, and she was looking with sad blank eyes at the two children, who were playing in an opposite corner—Lillo covering his head with his skirt and roaring at Ninna to frighten her, then peeping out again to see how she bore it. The door was a little behind Tessa, and she did not turn round when it opened, thinking it was only the old woman: expectation was no longer alive. Romola had thrown aside her veil and paused a moment, holding the necklace in sight. Then she said, in that pure voice that used to cheer her father—
“Tessa!”
Tessa started to her feet and looked round.
“See,” said Romola, clasping the beads on Tessa’s neck, “God has sent me to you again.”
The poor thing screamed and sobbed, and clung to the arms that fastened the necklace. She could not speak.
The two children came from their corner, laid hold of their mother’s skirts, and looked up with wide eyes at Romola.
That day they all went home to Monna Brigida’s, in the Borgo degli Albizzi. Romola had made known to Tessa, by gentle degrees, that Naldo could never come to her again: not because he was cruel, but because he was dead.