"Miss Jenny Blanchard?"

She could see there something white. He was holding it out to her. A
letter!

"For me," she asked, her voice still unsteady. She took the letter, a
large square envelope. Mechanically she thanked the man, puzzling at the
letter. From whom could a letter be brought to her?

"There's an answer," she heard. It came from ever so far away, in the
dim distance beyond her vague wonderings. Jenny was lost, submerged in
the sensations through which she had passed during the evening. She was
quite unlike herself, timid and fearful, a frightened girl alone in an
unhappy house.

"Wait a bit!" she said. "Will you wait there?"

"Yes," answered the man, startlingly enough. "I've got the car here."

The car! What did it mean? She caught now, as her eyes were more used to
the darkness, the sheen of light upon a peaked cap such as would be worn
by a chauffeur. It filled her mind that this man was in uniform. But if
so, why? From whom should the letter come? He had said "Miss Jenny
Blanchard."

"You _did_ say it was for me? I'll take it inside. ..." She left the
door unfastened, but the man pulled it right to, so that the catch
clicked. Then Jenny held the letter up under the flame of the passage
gas. She read there by this meagre light her own name, the address,
written in a large hand, very bold, with a sharp, sweeping stroke under
all, such as a man of impetuous strength might make. There was a blue
seal fastening the flap--a great pool of solid wax. Trembling so that
she was hardly able to tear the envelope, Jenny returned to the kitchen,
again scanning the address, the writing, the blue seal with its Minerva
head. Still, in her perplexity, it seemed as though her task was first
to guess the identity of the sender. Who could have written to her? It
was unheard of, a think for wondering jest, if only her lips had been
steady and her heart beating with normal pulsation. With a shrug, she
turned back from the seal to the address. She felt that some curious
mistake had been made, that the letter was not for her at all, but for
some other Jenny Blanchard, of whom she had never until now heard. Then,
casting such a fantastic thought aside with another impatient effort,
she tore the envelope, past the seal, in a ragged dash. Her first
glance was at the signature. "Yours always, KEITH."

Keith! Jenny gave a sob and moved swiftly to the light. Her eyes were
quite blurred with shining mist. She could not read