ly for the independence of thought and
feeling and action which she valued above all other possessions.

So she chained herself to her desk, and finished her romance, which in
its later chapters gained intensity of pathos and dramatic insight from
the constant immolation of her own heart as she imagined the martyrdoms
and sacrifices of others.

The story which was to make her famous had been conceived in sorrow, and
it became associated with the greatest sufferings of her life. She had
scarcely sent it off to the publisher, in the month of October, when her
mother, who had been gradually failing both in body and in mind, quietly
passed away in her sleep. No death could have been easier. The heart had
done its work, and ceased to beat; but though Lettice was spared the
grief which she would have felt if her mother had lingered long on a
painful death-bed, the shock was still very severe. For a time she was
entirely prostrated by it. The manifold strain upon her mind had tried
her too much, and for several weeks after the funeral Clara Graham was
nursing her through a dangerous illness.

CHAPTER XVII.

"TO THY CHAMBER WINDOW, SWEET!"

The message which had been sent by Lettice to Alan, by the mouth of Mrs.
Bundlecombe, had not lost much in its transit.

"Tell him," she had said, "that I have heard what he has suffered. Tell
him not to trouble for me because I am forewarned, and am not afraid of
anything she can do. And tell him that he should not think of punishing
her, for the punishment she has brought on herself is enough."

It had consoled him greatly to have this assurance of her sympathy. He
did not presume too far on the mere fact of her having sent him a
message, and the words themselves did not amount to very much. But if
she had cared nothing at all, she would have said nothing at all; and
perhaps the description which his aunt gave him of Lettice's kindness to
her, and of her interest in the story which she had heard, did more to
appease his heart than anything else.

It was his full intention to do all that was possible to deliver himself
from the bondage of his unhappy marriage, and in the meantime he would
take every precaution to prevent Lettice from being annoyed by this
termagant of a woman. But he rejoiced to think that Lettice herself was
in some manner prepared for what might happen to her, and was on her
guard against the danger.

There was a certain sweetness in the thought that the