t, popular some
ten years before. He turned its pages with bitter interest. Passage
after passage was marked and underlined. And at length he lighted on
one that seemed to jump from the page and strike him in the face. It
was doubly underlined in red ink, as well as thickly marked down the
margin.

"_In me is reincarnated the spirit of the ancient East, and it
is my mission to interpret that spirit to the modern world._"

And lower down on the same page, indicated with the like emphasis:

"_By sitting in this temple each day and meditating herein I have
ministered to my sacred moods, and I have kept pure the essence
of the ages, which I am to revive for the modern world._"

Morgan remembered only too well by whom and on what occasion such
words had been addressed to him. He put back the volume and shut the
book-case.

At the one o'clock dinner they all came together again. There was the
same profuse solidity of fare as on the previous day, and the same
insistence that Morgan must do justice to it. The girls seemed in high
spirits, mysterious signs and words passing between them, accompanied
by much laughter, of which Morgan dimly suspected he was the cause.

When the clerk at the post-office, looking through a little heap of
letters, picked out one and put it aside, Morgan could scarcely
restrain his emotion. He chafed at having to wait whilst the man
satisfied himself there were no others for him, and the quiet way he
took the letter revealed little of his almost overmastering impulse
to snatch at it as a wild beast might snatch at meat. Blessed writing
on the envelope! Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he stepped
again into the street! And when at last he began to read, all that he
had suppressed surged up and almost choked him.

"My very dear friend," said Helen, "I want to write to you such a
great deal because I know how welcome a long letter will be, and
yet I fear that I cannot make this one very long for the simple
reason that I am feeling serious. Moods are like dresses. Some of
them do not suit me at all. Seriousness not only spoils me, it
makes me absolutely idiotic. Most people I know, however, prefer
me like that because then I express my agreement with their
opinions so very readily. But to be serious. I don't quite
understand what you are going to do at Dover. Still, I am glad
you've gone, for I'm dying to k