e, in my amazement. Then I gave it to Zara.

"Read," I said, "for there is the answer to your question."

And this is the letter Zara read aloud to me, while we two leaned
against the rail of the vessel that was bearing us to our home across
the sea. The man in the moon was looking down, and smiling upon our
happiness, and shedding sufficient light for my sweetheart-wife to see
Saberevski's written words. They were:--

Derrington, these written words are to make you and Zara de
Echeveria known to each other. Months will pass, and many of them
may do so, before you will read what is written here; and it may
be, it likely will be, that you are standing side by side when you
break the seal of the last communication, written or oral, which I
shall probably ever submit to you. For our paths, henceforth, will
lead us widely apart, Derrington. You are a free agent, the arbiter
of your own destiny; I am one who can take no initiative regarding
the paths I must tread. But this letter is not to speak of myself,
but is to tell you about her, if, perchance, when you read these
words, you have never met.

Yesterday, when a ship sailed away from its pier in the North
River, you accompanied me to the dock, amazed that I should ask you
to do so, and doubtless wondering all the while why I made no
effort to see, or to speak with any person, there. But when the
ship had swung into the stream, you saw me wave my hand in farewell
to some person among those who thronged her decks. That person was
Zara de Echeveria, the princess to whose presence in New York you
lately called my attention, but respecting which I was already
informed; for at the moment of your communication I had already
seen her, and talked with her, and we had parted as you and I will
do when I place this letter in your hands--forever.

You are going upon a mission, Derrington, although it may be that
you have not decided in your own mind to do so; but the decision is
there, awaiting your recognition of it. Your mission will take you
to Russia, to accomplish the great work I have suggested to you. I
have willed it that you must go, and go you will. You will serve
the czar as faithfully as I have done; but better, because you are
not a Russian, and you have not the inborn awe of title and rank.

And you will have been successful in that mission when yo