uld not have
false motives imputed to him. It would be useless to talk to her while
her present mood continued. But he could write, and leave the letter
where it would be found. Inasmuch as he had faced the worst storm his
disclosure could have aroused, there was no cowardice in resorting to
a letter with such explanations as could not be brought to her mind in
any other form. Two days previously, he had requested writing
materials in his room, for the sketching of a report of his being
wounded, and these were still on a table by the window. He lighted
candles, and sat down to write.

When he had finished his document, sealed and addressed it, he laid it
on the table, where it would attract the eye of a servant, and looked
around for his hat. Presently he recalled that he had left it in the
parlor. He first thought of seeking a servant, and sending for it,
lest he might meet Elizabeth, should he again enter the parlor. But it
would be better to face her, for a moment, than to give an order to a
servant of a house whence he had been ordered out. And now, as he
intended to go into the parlor, he would preferably leave the letter
in that room, where it would perhaps reach her own eyes before any
other's could fall on it. He therefore took up the letter, thrust it
for the time in his belt, descended quietly to the south hall,
cautiously opened the parlor door, peeped through the crack, saw with
relief that only Miss Sally was in the room, threw the door wide, and
strode quickly towards the table on which he thought he had left his
hat.

But, as he approached, he saw that the hat was not there.

In the meantime, during the few minutes he had spent in his room,
things had been occurring in this parlor. As soon as Peyton had left
it, or had been carried out of it by the resistless current of
Elizabeth's invective, the girl had turned her anger on herself, for
having weakened to this man, made him her hero, indulged in those
dreams! She could scarcely contain herself. Having mechanically picked
up her cloak, where Peyton had let it fall, she evinced a sudden
unendurable sense of her humiliation and folly, by hurling the cloak
with violence across the room. At that moment old Mr. Valentine
entered, placidly seeking his pipe, which he had left behind him.

The octogenarian looked surprisedly at the cloak, then at Elizabeth,
then mildly asked her if she had seen his pipe.

"Oh, the cowardly wretch!" was Elizabeth's answer, h