bottom she demanded.

"Why should you wish to forget her? Does she disturb your memory as much
as that?"

"Perhaps," replied Frederick gloomily.

He saw the danger involved in the discussion and curbed his tongue. Then
he left her and walked quickly into the house. Madelene followed, angry
and rebellious, and found him seated at the table, white-faced, with the
morning mail unnoticed before him. Still enraged, she glanced over the
letters indifferently.

"They're all for me with the exception of one," she said sulkily, "and
it's an Ithaca letter.... May I open it?"

Frederick took it from her and looked at the envelope. His name was
staring back at him as if every cramped letter were an accusing eye, and
the writing was in the hand of Tessibel Skinner! He studied it a
minute....

"You have mail of your own to read, my dear," he said quite kindly.
"Let's have breakfast."

When during the morning Frederick found a moment to himself, he took
from his pocket the letter that had been searing through his clothing to
his heart. Gazing upon it, he shook as if he had the ague. Trembling
hands held it up to the light. Several times he turned it over. What had
Tess written to him? Had she told him, as he had her, that she loved him
better than all the rest of the world? He uttered a desperate
ejaculation and stretched out his arms. If he could have spanned the
world that separated them, he would have dragged her to him by the
terrible force of his desire. Again he turned the letter over.

Something kept him from ripping it open. He longed to delay the
happiness of reading it, and while he waited, he lifted it to his lips
and passionately kissed the crude writing. It ran up hill a little, but
that only made him smile and love it the more. It brought memories of
past joys, memories of Tessibel's endeavor to learn. Poor little child!
Suddenly he slipped the paper knife into the envelope and slowly dragged
it across the top.... Then he inserted his fingers and pulled out--the
bill he had sent her. In a sudden passion he looked frantically into the
empty envelope.... Nothing!... Absolute emptiness!

The money fluttered from his hand to the floor, where it lay like a
sentient thing, staring back as if mocking him. He stood half-blindly
gazing upon it. When he looked more closely, he stooped and picked it
up. There written across its yellow back was the one little line,

"Darlin', I air a prayin' for you every day. Tessibel."