in of Mrs. Van Brandt. But, my dear, your heart
is closed to every woman but one. Be happy in your own way, and let
me see it before I die. The wretch to whom that poor creature is
sacrificing her life will, sooner or later, ill-treat her or desert her
and then she must turn to you. Don't let her think that you are
resigned to the loss of her. The more resolutely you set her scruples at
defiance, the more she will love you and admire you in secret. Women are
like that. Send her a letter, and follow it with a little present. You
talked of taking me to the studio of the young artist here who left
his card the other day. I am told that he paints admirable portraits in
miniatures. Why not send your portrait to Mrs. Van Brandt?"

Here was the idea of which I had been vainly in search! Quite
superfluous as a method of pleading my cause with Mrs. Van Brandt,
the portrait offered the best of all means of communicating with Miss
Dunross, without absolutely violating the engagement to which her
father had pledged me. In this way, without writing a word, without even
sending a message, I might tell her how gratefully she was remembered; I
might remind her of me tenderly in the bitterest moments of her sad and
solitary life.

The same day I went to the artist privately. The sittings were afterward
continued during the hours while my mother was resting in her room,
until the portrait was completed. I caused it to be inclosed in a plain
gold locket, with a chain attached; and I forwarded my gift, in the
first instance, to the one person whom I could trust to assist me in
arranging for the conveyance of it to its destination. This was the old
friend (alluded to in these pages as "Sir James") who had taken me with
him to Shetland in the Government yacht.

I had no reason, in writing the necessary explanations, to express
myself to Sir James with any reserve. On the voyage back we had more
than once spoken together confidentially of Miss Dunross. Sir James had
heard her sad story from the resident medical man at Lerwick, who had
been an old companion of his in their college days. Requesting him to
confide my gift to this gentleman, I did not hesitate to acknowledge the
doubt that oppressed me in relation to the mystery of the black veil. It
was, of course, impossible to decide whether the doctor would be able
to relieve that doubt. I could only venture to suggest that the question
might be guardedly put, in making the customary inquir