clear.

"And now tell me of Windyridge.... Write to me when you can: give me
all the news; tell me how the great quest for peace progresses, and
believe that I am ever,

"Your very sincere friend,
"GEORGE EVANS."

Womanlike, I watered this missive with my tears, but they were April
showers, after all, with great patches of blue sky in between, and
plenty of warm sunshine; for it was sweet to know that I was cared for
and that someone wanted me.

I hope none would mistake me. I am an emotional goose at times, I
know, but thank goodness! I am no sentimentalist. I am not possessed
with the idea that the squire wants to marry me and leave me his
fortune, for I am perfectly sure that he does not. I heard his voice
the night before he went away, and it told me the secret of his
fidelity. Besides, I wouldn't marry him if he did want it, for though
my heart tells me that I have loved him instinctively from the first
day of our acquaintance, and I love him now more than ever, it also
tells me that the affection is filial and nothing more. What more
should it be? It is all the more likely to be unselfish and sincere on
both sides that it has nothing of passion in it. You see, unlike Widow
Robertshaw, I am not eager to change my state.

As to my decision, I did not hesitate for one moment. When he needs me
I will go to him and, God helping me, I will act a daughter's part.
Act? Nay, rather, I will do a daughter's loving duty.

I wrote him yesterday, telling him all the news of the little world of
Windyridge, but painting the shadows lightly. In truth, they are heavy
and full of gloom just now.

I had just commenced work in my studio after reading the squire's
letter when Sar'-Ann burst in upon me, and throwing herself into one of
my ornamental chairs commenced to cry and sob hysterically, holding her
apron to her eyes and rocking her body to and fro in a frenzy of
abandonment. I saw there was trouble of some sort, but recognised at
the same time the need of firmness.

"Sar'-Ann," I said, "you will break that chair if you carry on in that
fashion. Restrain yourself, and tell me what is the matter."

Restraint and Sar'-Ann, however, were strangers to each other, and her
only response was to redouble her groans, until I lost patience.

"If you don't stop this noise, Sar'-Ann," I threatened, "I will get you
a strong dose of sal-volatile and make you drink it. Do you hear?"

She did hear. Sal-volatile,