rom the toast-rack before him: "Well, let's see." He
reads aloud: "'Oh, my darling! How can I live till I see you? I will be
there long _before_ the hour! To think of your _asking_ me! You should
have said, "I permit you to come," and I would have flown from the ends
of the earth. The presence of others will be nothing. It will be sweet
to ignore them in my heart, and while I see you moving among them, and
looking after their pleasure with that beautiful thoughtfulness of
yours, to think, "She is mine, mine, mine!"

"Oh, young lord lover, what sighs are those
For one that can never be thine?"

I thank you, and thank you a thousand times over, for this proof of your
trust in me, and of your love--_our_ love. You shall be the sole keeper
of our secret--it is so sweet to think that no one even suspects
it!--and it shall live with you, and if you will, it shall die with me.
Forever yours, Arthur Welling.'" Campbell turns the note over, and
picking up the envelope, examines the address. "Well, _upon_ my word!
It's to you, Amy--on the outside, anyway. What do you suppose he
means?"

Mrs. Campbell, in her handkerchief: "Oh, I don't know; I _don't_ know
why he should address such language to me!"

Campbell, recurring to the letter: "_I_ never did. '_Oh, my
darling--live till I see you--ends of the earth--others will be
nothing--beautiful thoughtfulness--mine, mine, mine--our love--sweet to
think no one suspects it--forever yours._' Amy, these are pretty strong
expressions to use towards the wife of another, and she a married lady!
I think I had better go and solve that little problem of how he can live
till he sees you by relieving him of the necessity. It would be
disagreeable to him, but perhaps there's a social duty involved."

Mrs. Campbell: "Oh, Willis, _don't_ torment me! What do you suppose it
means? Is it some--mistake? It's for somebody else!"

Campbell: "I don't see why he should have addressed it to you, then."

Mrs. Campbell: "But don't you see? He's been writing to some other
person at the same time, and he's got the answers mixed--put them in
the wrong envelopes. Oh dear! I wonder who she is!"

Campbell, studying her with an air of affected abstraction: "Her
curiosity gets the better of her anguish. Look here, Amy! _I_ believe
you're _afraid_ it's to some one else."

Mrs. Campbell: "Willis!"

Campbell: "Yes. And before we proceed any further I must know just what
you wrote to this--this Mr. Wel