rp
click-click of a pedestrian now and then sounded above, but no one
passed her way. The hum of the city made a blurred wash of sound, like
the varying yet steady wash of the sea. As she opened her eyes again,
she saw that the twilight had perceptibly deepened. Far away, lights
began to flash out in the city, as if a million fireflies, by twos and
threes and dozens, were waking to their nocturnal revelry.

On the hill the light was still good, and the lady turned again to her
reading. The other letter was written on single sheets of thin paper
in an old-fashioned, beautiful hand. Wherever a double-s occurred, the
first was written long, in the style of sixty years ago; and the whole
letter was as easily legible as print. Across the top was written: "To
Agatha Redmond, daughter of my ward and dear friend, Agatha Shaw
Redmond"; and below that, in the lawyer's choppy handwriting, was a
date of nearly a year previous. As Agatha Redmond read the second
letter, a smile, half of sadness, half of pleasure, overspread her
countenance. It ran as follows:

"ILION, MAINE.

"MY DEAR AGATHA:

"I take my pen in hand to address you, the daughter of the dearest
friend of my life, for the first time in the twenty-odd years of your
existence. Once as a child you saw me, and you have doubtless heard my
name from your mother's people from time to time; but I can scarcely
hope that any knowledge of my private life has come to you. It will be
easy, then, for you to pardon an old man for giving you, in this
fashion, the confidence he has never been able to bestow in the flesh.

"When you read this epistle, my dear Agatha, I shall have stepped into
that next mystery, which is Death. Indeed, the duty which I am now
discharging serves as partial preparation for that very event. This
duty is to make you heir to my house and estate and to certain
accessory funds which will enable you to keep up the place.

"You may regard this act, possibly, as the idiosyncrasy of an
unbalanced mind; it is certain that some of my kinsfolk will do so.
But while I have been able to bear up under _their_ greater or less
displeasure for many years, I find myself shrinking before the
possibility of dying absolutely unknown and forgotten by you. Your
mother, Agatha Shaw, of blessed memory now for many years, was my ward
and pupil after the death of your grandfather. I think I may say
without undue self-congratulation that few women of their time h