fraid will hurt and trouble
you; Nollie is married to Jimmy Fort. They were married down here this
afternoon, and have just gone up to Town. They have to find a house of
course. She has been very restless, lonely, and unhappy ever since you
went, and I'm sure it is really for the best: She is quite another
creature, and simply devoted, headlong. It's just like Nollie. She says
she didn't know what she wanted, up to the last minute. But now she
seems as if she could never want anything else.

"Dad dear, Nollie could never have made good by herself. It isn't her
nature, and it's much better like this, I feel sure, and so does George.
Of course it isn't ideal--and one wanted that for her; but she did break
her wing, and he is so awfully good and devoted to her, though you didn't
believe it, and perhaps won't, even now. The great thing is to feel her
happy again, and know she's safe. Nollie is capable of great devotion;
only she must be anchored. She was drifting all about; and one doesn't
know what she might have done, in one of her moods. I do hope you won't
grieve about it. She's dreadfully anxious about how you'll feel. I know
it will be wretched for you, so far off; but do try and believe it's for
the best.... She's out of danger; and she was really in a horrible
position. It's so good for the baby, too, and only fair to him. I do
think one must take things as they are, Dad dear. It was impossible to
mend Nollie's wing. If she were a fighter, and gloried in it, or if she
were the sort who would 'take the veil'--but she isn't either. So it is
all right, Dad. She's writing to you herself. I'm sure Leila didn't
want Jimmy Fort to be unhappy because he couldn't love her; or she would
never have gone away. George sends you his love; we are both very well.
And Nollie is looking splendid still, after her harvest work. All, all
my love, Dad dear. Is there anything we can get, and send you? Do take
care of your blessed self, and don't grieve about Nollie.
"GRATIAN."

A half-sheet of paper fluttered down; he picked it up from among the
parched fibre of dead palm-leaves.
"DADDY DARLING,

"I've done it. Forgive me-I'm so happy.

"Your NOLLIE."

The desert shimmered, the palm-leaves rustled, and Pierson stood trying
to master the emotion roused in him by those two letters. He felt no
anger, not even vexation; he felt no sorrow, but a loneliness so utter
and complete that he did not know how to bear i