orget me altogether, Leonard--your first love--and no other woman
will ever be quite the same to you as I have been; or, at least, so I
believe in my foolishness and vanity.

"You will ask what explanation is possible after the way in which I have
treated you, and the outrage that I have done to my own love. Such as it
is, however, I offer it to you.

"I was driven into this marriage, Leonard, by my late father, who could
be very cruel when he chose. To admit this is, as I know, a proof of
weakness. So be it, I have never concealed from myself that I am weak.
Yet, believe me, I struggled while I could; I wrote to you even, but
they intercepted my letter; and I told all the truth to Mr. Cohen,
but he was self-willed and passionate, and would take no heed of my
pleading. So I married him, Leonard, and was fairly happy with him, for
he was kindness itself to me, but from that hour I began to die.

"And now more than six years have passed since the night of our parting
in the snow, and the end is at hand, for I am really dying. It has
pleased God to take my little daughter, and this last shock proved more
than I can bear, and so I go to join her and to wait with her till such
time as I shall once more see your unforgotten face.

"That is all that I have to say, dear Leonard.

"Pardon me, and I am selfish enough to add--do not forget me.

"JANE.

"P.S.--Why is it that an affection like ours, which has never borne
fruit even, should in the end prove stronger than any other earthly tie?
Heaven knows, and Heaven alone, how passionately I loved and love my
dead child; and yet, now that my own hour is at hand, it is of _you_
that I think the most, you who are neither child nor husband. I suppose
that I shall understand ere long, but, O Leonard, Leonard, Leonard, if,
as I believe, my nature is immortal, I swear that such love as mine
for you, however much it be dishonoured and betrayed, is still the most
immortal part of it!--J."

Leonard put down the letter on the table, and again he covered his face
with his hand to hide his emotion, for his feelings overcame him as a
sense of the depth and purity of this dead woman's undying love sank
into his heart.

"May I read that letter, Leonard?" asked Juanna in a quiet voice.

"Yes, I suppose so, dear, if you like," he answered, feeling dully that
it was better to make a clean breast of the matter at once, and thus to
prevent future misunderstandings.

Juanna took the lett