"

When I had written it I did not read it over, lest I should destroy it
with the others, but, having found a very strong envelope, I put it
within it and sealed it with the impression of my father's ring.

The only way I could hope for it to reach him was by leaving it at his
old home, which I knew he loved despite its state of ruin--or perhaps
the more because of that--and he was sure to return there some time. So
I addressed it to Captain Cardew, Brosna; and then, because I could
trust no one but myself to deliver it I stole out of the house.

I was free for a few hours, for my lover was gone to Dublin. He had
taken a cottage in the neighbourhood, because he had once heard me
express a liking for it. It was a pretty little place, enclosed by high
walls which held within them many beauties. It would have been an
exquisite place for a pair of happy lovers; and he was making it very
fine and dainty for me. It had been unoccupied for some years; and he
was having it newly decorated and furnishing it with the prettiest
things money could buy. He had said that I was not to see it till it was
ready for me; and it occupied as much of his time as he could spare from
me. In Dublin he was picking up all manner of pretty things in the way
of antique furniture and china and glass and silver and pictures. We
were to stay at the cottage a few days after our marriage, before we
went abroad; and afterwards it was to be our home till such time as I
desired a finer one.

He was so generous that at times I felt ashamed that he should do so
much for an unwilling bride; and if I could have felt less aversion for
him I would gladly have done so. I used to feel that if I could watch
him lavishing everything on another woman--for he squandered his love as
well as his money on me--I could have liked and admired him.

The woods were full of the yellow leaves of autumn and the wind sighed
mournfully in the bare branches as I went on my way to the postern in
the wall. Outside it I turned to the left, and walked for half a mile or
so along a grassy road, overhung with trees, till I came to the entrance
gates of Brosna.

The lodge was empty, and the gate yielded to a push. There was an air of
neglect about everything that was very sad. Part of one of the pillars
which supported the entrance gate was down. In the avenue some trees
that had fallen last winter lay across the way; no one had troubled to
remove them.

I knew there was no one i