aid Mrs. Milroy, impatiently.

The nurse opened the wardrobe in silence, took the scarf in silence, and
left the room in silence. In less than five minutes she came back with
the envelope of Miss Gwilt's letter open in her hand.

"Thank you, ma'am, for the scarf," said Rachel, putting the open letter
composedly on the counterpane of the bed.

Mrs. Milroy looked at the envelope. It had been closed as usual by means
of adhesive gum, which had been made to give way by the application of
steam. As Mrs. Milroy took out the letter, her hand trembled violently,
and the white enamel parted into cracks over the wrinkles on her
forehead.

Rachel withdrew to the window to keep watch on the park. "Don't hurry,"
she said. "No signs of her yet."

Mrs. Milroy still paused, keeping the all-important morsel of paper
folded in her hand. She could have taken Miss Gwilt's life, but she
hesitated at reading Miss Gwilt's letter.

"Are you troubled with scruples?" asked the nurse, with a sneer.
"Consider it a duty you owe to your daughter."

"You wretch!" said Mrs. Milroy. With that expression of opinion, she
opened the letter.

It was evidently written in great haste, was undated, and was signed in
initials only. Thus it ran:

"Diana Street.

"MY DEAR LYDIA--The cab is waiting at the door, and I have only a moment
to tell you that I am obliged to leave London, on business, for three
or four days, or a week at longest. My letters will be forwarded if
you write. I got yours yesterday, and I agree with you that it is very
important to put him off the awkward subject of yourself and your family
as long as you safely can. The better you know him, the better you will
be able to make up the sort of story that will do. Once told, you will
have to stick to it; and, _having_ to stick to it, beware of making
it complicated, and beware of making it in a hurry. I will write again
about this, and give you my own ideas. In the meantime, don't risk
meeting him too often in the park.

"Yours, M. O."

"Well?" asked the nurse, returning to the bedside. "Have you done with
it?"

"Meeting him in the park!" repeated Mrs. Milroy, with her eyes still
fastened on the letter. "_Him_! Rachel, where is the major?"

"In his own room."

"I don't believe it!"

"Have your own way. I want the letter and the envelope."

"Can you close it again so that she won't know?"

"What I can open I can shut. Anything more?"

"Nothing more."

Mrs. Milroy was