Noel Vanstone to Mr. Loscombe._

"DEAR SIR--I have read your letter more than once, with the deepest
interest and attention; and the oftener I read it, the more firmly I
believe that there is really such a Letter as you mention in Admiral
Bartram's hands.

"It is my interest that the discovery should be made, and I at once
acknowledge to you that I am determined to find the means of secretly
and certainly making it. My resolution rests on other motives than the
motives which you might naturally suppose would influence me. I only
tell you this, in case you feel inclined to remonstrate. There is good
reason for what I say, when I assure you that remonstrance will be
useless.

"I ask for no assistance in this matter; I will trouble nobody for
advice. You shall not be involved in any rash proceedings on my part.
Whatever danger there may be, I will risk it. Whatever delays may
happen, I will bear them patiently. I am lonely and friendless, and
surely troubled in mind, but I am strong enough to win my way through
worse trials than these. My spirits will rise again, and my time will
come. If that Secret Trust is in Admiral Bartram's possession--when you
next see me, you shall see me with it in my own hands. Yours gratefully,

"MAGDALEN VANSTONE."

THE SIXTH SCENE.

ST. JOHN'S WOOD.

CHAPTER I.

IT wanted little more than a fortnight to Christmas; but the weather
showed no signs yet of the frost and snow, conventionally associated
with the coming season. The atmosphere was unnaturally warm, and the old
year was dying feebly in sapping rain and enervating mist.

Toward the close of the December afternoon, Magdalen sat alone in the
lodging which she had occupied since her arrival in London. The fire
burned sluggishly in the narrow little grate; the view of the wet houses
and soaking gardens opposite was darkening fast; and the bell of the
suburban muffin-boy tinkled in the distance drearily. Sitting close over
the fire, with a little money lying loose in her lap, Magdalen absently
shifted the coins to and fro on the smooth surface of her dress,
incessantly altering their positions toward each other, as if they were
pieces of a "child's puzzle" which she was trying to put together.
The dim fire-light flaming up on her faintly from time to time showed
changes which would have told their own tale sadly to friends of former
days. Her dress had become loose through the wasting of her figure; but
she had not c