ky that she had found it,
for it might have slipped down behind the plush covering, and so have
been definitely lost. Of course Peter had friends in London and of
course they should wish to write to him, but for the first time it
seemed curious to Beth that in all their conversations Peter had never
volunteered any information as to the life that he had lived before he
had come to Black Rock. She remembered now that she had told him that
whatever his past had been and whoever he was, he was good enough for
her. But the heliotrope envelope with the feminine handwriting and the
strange odor immediately suggested queries along lines of investigation
which had never before entered her thoughts. Who was the lady of the
delicate script and the strange perfume? What was her relationship to
Peter? And upon what topic was she writing to him?

Beth slipped the note about a quarter of an inch out of its envelope
until she could just see a line of the writing and then quickly thrust
it in again, put the envelope on the mantel above the "parlor heater"
and resolutely went on with her sweeping. From time to time she stopped
her work and looked at it just to be sure that it was still there and at
last took it up in her fingers again, a prey to a more lively curiosity
than any she had ever known. She put the envelope down again and turning
her back to it went into the kitchen. Of course Peter would tell her who
this lady was if she asked him. And there was no doubt at all that it
_was_ a lady who had written the letter, some one familiar with a
delicate mode of existence and given to refinements which had been
denied to Beth. It was this delicacy and refinement, this flowing
inscription written with such careless ease and grace which challenged
Beth's rusticity. She would have liked to ask Peter about the lady at
once. But Peter would not be at the Cabin at this early hour of the
morning, nor would Beth be able to see him until late this
afternoon--perhaps not until to-night. Meanwhile, the note upon the
mantel was burning its way into her consciousness. It was endued with a
personality feminine, insidious and persuasive. No ladies of London
affecting heliotrope envelopes had any business writing scented notes to
Peter now. He was Beth's particular property....

When she went up to the second floor of the cottage a few minutes later
she took the heliotrope letter with her and put it on her bureau,
propped against the pincushion, while