w of them. The doctor reported this to Jane in his next
letter, asking her to write to his friend so that he might know of
their whereabouts should they need his services, for which Jane, in a
subsequent letter, thanked him, but made no mention of sending to his
friend should occasion require. These subsequent letters said very
little about their plans and carefully avoided all reference to their
daily life or to Lucy's advancement in her studies, and never once set
any time for their coming home. He wondered at her neglect of him, and
when no answer came to his continued letters, except at long intervals,
he could contain himself no longer, and laid the whole matter before
Martha.

"She means nothing, doctor, dear," she had answered, taking his hand
and looking up into his troubled face. "Her heart is all right; she's
goin' through deep waters, bein' away from everybody she loves--you
most of all. Don't worry; keep on lovin' her, ye'll never have cause to
repent it."

That same night Martha wrote to Jane, giving her every detail of the
interview, and in due course of time handed the doctor a letter in
which Jane wrote: "He MUST NOT stop writing to me; his letters are all
the comfort I have"--a line not intended for the doctor's eyes, but
which the good soul could not keep from him, so eager was she to
relieve his pain.

Jane's letter to him in answer to his own expressing his unhappiness
over her neglect was less direct, but none the less comforting to him.
"I am constantly moving about," the letter ran, "and have much to do
and cannot always answer your letters, so please do not expect them too
often. But I am always thinking of you and your kindness to dear
Martha. You do for me when you do for her."

After this it became a settled habit between them, he writing by the
weekly steamer, telling her every thought of his life, and she replying
at long intervals. In these no word of love was spoken on her side; nor
was any reference made to their last interview. But this fact did not
cool the warmth of his affection nor weaken his faith. She had told him
she loved him, and with her own lips. That was enough--enough from a
woman like Jane. He would lose faith when she denied it in the same
way. In the meantime she was his very breath and being.

One morning two years after Jane's departure, while the doctor and his
mother sat at breakfast, Mrs. Cavendish filling the tea-cups, the
spring sunshine lighting up the snow-