to me at my Club and they forwarded it. Croyden left
Northumberland without a word--and no one is aware of his residence but
me. She asks that I tell her where _I_ am. Then she intends to come
down and give Croyden a last chance. I want to help her--and your
invitation will be right to the point--she'll jump at it."

"You're a good friend!" she reflected.

"Will you do it?" he asked.

She thought a moment before she answered.

"I'll do it!" she said at length. "Come, we'll work out the letter
together."

"Would I not be permitted to kiss you as Miss Cavendish's deputy?" he
exclaimed.

"Miss Cavendish can be her own deputy," she answered.--"Moreover, it
would be premature."

The second morning after, when Elaine Cavendish's maid brought her
breakfast, Miss Carrington's letter was on the tray among tradesmen's
circulars, invitations, and friendly correspondence.

She did not recognize the handwriting, and the postmark was unfamiliar,
wherefore, coupled with the fact that it was addressed in a
particularly stylish hand, she opened it first. It was very brief, very
succinct, very informing, and very satisfactory.

"Ashburton,

"Hampton, Md.

"My dear Elaine:--

"Mr. Macloud tells me you are contemplating coming down to the
Eastern Shore to look for a country-place. Let me advise
Hampton--there are some delightful old residences in this
vicinity which positively are crying for a purchaser. Geoffrey
Croyden, whom you know, I believe, is resident here, and is
thinking of making it his home permanently. If you can be
persuaded to come, you are to stay with me--the hotels are simply
impossible, and I shall be more than delighted to have you. We
can talk over old times at Dobbs, and have a nice little visit
together. Don't trouble to write--just wire the time of your
arrival--and come before the good weather departs. Don't
disappoint me.

"With lots of love,

"Davila Carrington."

Elaine Cavendish read the letter slowly--and smiled.

"Clever! very clever!" she mused. "Colin is rather a diplomat--he
managed it with exceeding adroitness--and the letter is admirably
worded. It tells me everything I wanted to know. I'd forgotten about
Davila Carrington, and I reckon she had forgotten me, till he somehow
found it out and jogged her memory. Surely! I shall