way. You asked him to bear his part in life
bravely, and he has borne it; you asked him to come back to me, and he
did come back. If you were any other woman on earth, I would never
confess this--confess that I owe to _you_ my happiness of last winter,
when he changed, even in his letters, to greater kindness; confess that
it was your influence which made him, when he came home later, so much
more watchful and gentle in his care of, his manner toward, me. I
noticed the change on the first instant, the first letter, and it made
my heart bound. If it had been possible, I should have gone to him then,
but it was not. He had rejoined his regiment, and I could only watch
for his letters like a girl of sixteen. When he did come home, I counted
every hour of that short visit as so much happiness greater than I had
ever known before. For I had always loved him, and _now_ he loved me.

"Do not contradict me; he does love me. At least he is so dear to me,
and so kind and tender, that I do not know whether he does or not, but
am content. You are a better, nobler woman; yet _I_ have the happiness.

"He does not know that I have seen you, and I shall never tell him. He
does not know that I know what an effort he has made. But every kind act
and tone goes to my heart. For I _did_ deceive him, Anne; and if it had
not been for that deception, probably he would not now be my husband--he
would be free.

"Yet good has come out of evil this time, perhaps on account of my deep
love. No wife was ever so thankfully happy as I am to-night, and on my
knees I have thanked my Creator for giving me that which makes my life
one long joy.

"He has come in, and is sitting opposite, reading. He does not know to
whom I am writing--does not dream what I am saying. And he must never
know: I can not rise to _that_.

"No, Anne, we must not meet, at least for the present. It is better so,
and you yourself will feel that it is. But when I reach home I will
write again, and _then_ you will answer.

"Always, with warm love, your friend,

HELEN."

* * * * *

During the reading of this letter, the prisoner for the first time sat
with his head bowed, his face shaded by his hand. Miss Teller's sobs
could be heard. Anne, too, broke down, and wept silently.

"When I reach home I will write again, and _then_ you will answer."
Helen _had_ reached home, and Anne--had answered.

CHAPTER XXXV.

"The cold neutrality