d on his forehead as he
reached forward and picked up the letter. Yet his fingers trembled as
they tore it open, and his eyes ran over the contents rapidly.

"18 GREY STREET, LONDON, W., _Thursday_.

"Monsieur Paul, my hand trembles a little when I sit down to
write to you, and think of our last parting. But write to you
I must! I am very humble now, and very, very much ashamed!
Shall I go on and say that I am very sad and lonely,--for
it is so! I am miserable! I have been miserable every moment
since that day! Forgive me, Monsieur Paul, forgive me! my
guardian. I behaved quite dreadfully, and I deserved to be
punished. Believe me! I am punished. I have had scarcely any
sleep, and my eyes are swollen with weeping. I have cancelled
all my engagements this week, and I have closed my doors to
everybody. Oh! be generous, Monsieur Paul! be generous and
forgive me! I have suffered so much,--it is right that I
should, for I was much to blame. Will you not let fall some
kindly veil of memory over that afternoon. I was mad. Let
what I said be unsaid! Let me be again just what you called
me,--your ward. I ask for nothing more! Be cold, if you will,
and stern! Scold me! and I will but say that I have deserved
it! Only come to me! Come and let me hear your own lips tell
me that I am forgiven. I will do everything that you ask! I
will not see Arthur if he calls,--you shall tell me yourself
how to answer his letters,--I have a little pile of them here.
Monsieur Paul, you must come! You must come, or I shall be
driven to--but no! I will not threaten. You would not care
whatever happened to me, would you? I am very, very lonely. I
wish that I could have telegraphed all this, and had you here
to-night! But you would not have come! Yet, perhaps you would,
out of kindness to a solitary girl. I like to think that you
would have!

"Monsieur Paul, you have been good to the 'little brown girl,'
as you used to call her, all your life! Do not forsake her
now. She has been very mad and wicked, but she is very, very
penitent. Celeste tells me that I am looking thin and ill, and
my looking-glass says the same. It is because I am unhappy;
it is because my guardian is angry with me, and he is so far
away. Oh! Monsieur Paul, come, come, come to me! It shall be
all as you wish! I will obey you in ever