time
had been so engrossed that the letter itself was forgotten, though the
memory of the eager, passionate words therein was bringing up all the
unpleasant scenes that had happened in Halifax in connection with Hugh.

During the evening she had, with the help of the cook, set out a dainty
repast in the dining-room, and as she made her way into the parlor again to
invite the guests to come and partake of it, she wondered at the sound that
reached her ears, for instead of the hum of many voices one voice alone
was heard, and that was Gussie's.

Now, for some time back the frequent visits of Guy Traverse had aroused
suspicions in Gussie's mind. They certainly were not always intended for
her father, and he never offered himself as her escort unless Dexie was in
her company. She had repeatedly hinted that Dexie was "already spoken for,"
but the hint was not acted on in the way Gussie expected. Remembering all
this, Gussie's conduct this particular evening is seen in its true light,
but it brought its own punishment.

In some unaccountable way, Hugh's letter had dropped from Dexie's pocket
while she sat sewing at the badges with the rest, and in searching for a
spool of thread, it fell into Gussie's hands. She glanced over the letter,
but did not notice the signature. Hugh had been thinking more of touching
Dexie's heart than of giving his letter the usual appearance, and had left
place, date and all tell-tale marks to find room at the bottom of the
closely-written sheet. Gussie guessed at once it was Dexie's letter, and
thought it would be "fun" to read it before those assembled; it would let
Guy Traverse know that he was wasting his time over Dexie. No one in the
room had the least idea what she meant when she rose from her chair and
said:

"Oh! friends, listen! here is a specimen of true love for you!"

"My dearest love, my heart's one treasure:

"It is no longer any use to try and put you out of my heart. I
have tried to do it as you wished, but I cannot. I love you, my
darling, and my love will not die, try as I may to kill it. You
thought I could forget you if I went among fresh scenes and new
faces; but it is not so--your dear face is ever before me.
Sleeping or waking, it is the same. I cannot live without you, my
dearest--"

"Augusta! Augusta! what are you doing? Is that your own letter you are
making public?"

The words cut the air like a flash of steel.

That word "Augu