lope directed in Harold's hand. The sight made
her almost faint. She rejoiced that she had been first down, and had
opened the postbag with her own key. She took the letter to her room and
shut herself in before opening it. Within were a few lines of writing
and her own letter to Leonard in its envelope. Her head beat so hard
that she could scarcely see; but gradually the writing seemed to grow out
of the mist:

'The enclosed should be in your hands. It is possible that it may
comfort you to know that it is safe. Whatever may come, God love and
guard you.'

For a moment joy, hot and strong, blazed through her. The last words
were ringing through her brain. Then came the cold shock, and the gloom
of fear. Harold would never have written thus unless he was going away!
It was a farewell!

For a long time she stood, motionless, holding the letter in her hand.
Then she said, half aloud:

'Comfort! Comfort! There is no more comfort in the world for me! Never,
never again! Oh, Harold! Harold!'

She sank on her knees beside her bed, and buried her face in her cold
hands, sobbing in all that saddest and bitterest phase of sorrow which
can be to a woman's heart: the sorrow that is dry-eyed and without hope.

Presently the habit of caution which had governed her last days woke her
to action. She bathed her eyes, smoothed her hair, locked the letter and
its enclosure in the little jewel-safe let into the wall, and came down
to breakfast.

The sense of loss was so strong on her that she forgot herself. Habit
carried her on without will or voluntary effort, and, so faithfully
worked to her good that even the loving eyes of her aunt--and the eyes of
love are keen--had no suspicion that any new event had come into her
life.

Not till she was alone in her room that night did Stephen dare to let her
thoughts run freely. In the darkness her mind began to work truly, so
truly that she began at the first step of logical process: to study
facts. And to study them she must question till she found motive.

Why had Harold sent her the letter? His own words said that it should be
in her hands. Then, again, he said it might comfort her to know the
letter was safe. How could it comfort her? How did he get possession of
the letter?

There she began to understand; her quick intuition and her old knowledge
of Harold's character and her new knowledge of Leonard's, helped her to
reconstruct causes. In his interview