one who
needed it; yet her heart had asked in vain for something to fill it, and
in spite of all its longings had been sent empty away. She had failed
all along the line to get the best out of life; and yet she did not see
how she could have acted differently. Surely it was Fate, and not
herself, that was to blame for her failure.

When she arrived at Sedgehill she drove straight to Christopher's house,
and learned from the nurse who was attending him how serious his illness
was--not so much on account of the violence of the cold which he had
taken in Germany, as from the fact that his vitality was too feeble to
resist it. But she could not guess--and there was no one to tell
her--that his vitality had been lowered by her unkindness to him, and
that it was she who had deliberately snapped the mainspring of
Christopher's life. It was no use anybody's seeing him, the nurse said,
as he was delirious and knew no one; but if he regained consciousness,
she would summon Miss Farringdon at once.

Then Elisabeth went alone into the big, oak-panelled dining-room, with
the crape masks before its windows, and opened the safe.

She could not find the plans at once, as she did not know exactly where
to look for them; and as she was searching for them among various
papers, she came upon a letter addressed to herself in Christopher's
handwriting. She opened it with her usual carelessness, without
perceiving that it bore the inscription "Not to be given to Miss
Farringdon until after my death"; and when she had begun to read it, she
could not have left off to save her life--being a woman. And this was
what she read:

"MY DARLING--for so I may call you at last, since you will not read this
letter until after I am dead;

"There are two things that I want to tell you. _First_, that I love you,
and always have loved you, and always shall love you to all eternity.
But how could I say this to you, sweetheart, in the days when my love
spelled poverty for us both? And how could I say it when you became one
of the richest women in Mershire, and I only the paid manager of your
works? Nevertheless I should have said it in time, when you had seen
more of the world and were capable of choosing your own life for
yourself, had I thought there was any chance of your caring for me; for
no man has ever loved you as I have loved you, Elisabeth, nor ever will.
You had a right to know what was yours, when you were old enough to
decide what to do with