sn't written anything
to me! It is addressed to Colomba, indeed, but underneath that he has
written 'For Miss N.' But sisters are never jealous! Giocanto says it
hurt him dreadfully to write. Giocanto, who writes a splendid hand,
offered to do it at his dictation. But he would not let him. He wrote it
with a pencil, lying on his back. Brandolaccio held the paper for him.
My brother kept trying to raise himself, and then the very slightest
movement gave him the most dreadful agony in his arm. Giocanto says it
was pitiful. Here is his letter."

Miss Nevil read the letter, which, as an extra precaution, no doubt, was
written in English. Its contents were as follows:

"MADEMOISELLE: An unhappy fate has driven me on. I know not what my
enemies will say, what slanders they will invent. I care little, so long
as you, mademoiselle, give them no credence! Ever since I first saw you
I have been nursing wild dreams. I needed this catastrophe to show me my
own folly.

"I have come back to my senses now. I know the future that lies before
me, and I shall face it with resignation. I dare not keep this ring
you gave me, and which I believed to be a lucky talisman. I fear, Miss
Nevil, you may regret your gift has been so ill-bestowed. Or rather, I
fear it may remind me of the days of my own madness. Colomba will give
it to you. Farewell, mademoiselle! You are about to leave Corsica, and
I shall never see you again. But tell my sister, at least, that I still
possess your esteem--and I tell you, confidently, that I am still worthy
of it.

"O.D.R."

Miss Lydia had turned away while she read the letter, and Colomba, who
was watching her closely, gave her the Egyptian ring, with an inquiring
glance as to what it all meant. But Miss Lydia dared not raise her head,
and looked dejectedly at the ring, alternately putting it on her finger
and pulling it off again.

"Dear Miss Nevil," said Colomba, "may I not know what my brother says to
you? Does he say anything about his health?"

"Indeed," said Miss Lydia, colouring, "he doesn't mention it. His letter
is in English. He desires me to tell my father--He hopes the prefect
will be able to arrange----"

With a mischievous smile, Colomba sat down on the bed, took hold of both
Miss Nevil's hands, and, looking at her with her piercing eyes--

"Will you be kind?" she said. "Won't you answer my brother's letter? You
would do him so much good! For a moment I thought of waking you when his
l