borne to his ears, but only the quiet made even quieter by his
sorrow or his joy.

But I find that again I am using superfluous if not wholly irrelevant
speech. Let me say, however, that had I possessed more curiosity--or,
rather, if I had expressed more curiosity--friend Afton would have told
me, as she afterward did, that the woman was not so entirely alone as she
imagined herself to be, for that weekly letters reached friend Afton
wherein were goodly wages for the care of the stricken one.

That my affairs prospered I am glad to relate--that in the six months I
should be here I should accumulate an agreeable sum might have pleased me.
But what was that sum to me now, when I realized to what purpose I had
expected to put it? Yet my greed received a check. I had a letter from
friend Hicks. It was a most grievous letter: my money, all that he held in
trust for me (and it was my all), had been stolen from his keeping. The
theft had occurred more than a month ago, but as he had sedulously hoped
to detect the culprit, he had kept the fact from me for shame at what
might be termed his negligence of reposed trust. He had instigated
diligent search, but nothing had come of it: there was no one to accuse.
He had determined, however, to pay back to my account from his own moneys
the full amount, and had only informed me of the loss that there might be
no secrecy between us, and that I should never hear from outside parties
that this thing had occurred, and that he had used most reprehensive tact
to disguise the fact from me. I wrote a letter to him. I reminded him that
the money was of no account--that as it had been intended for the
well-known purpose, and as my marriage was to be at no set time, let it
rest to my loss, and not his, for that I would never accept of his money
to cover what was truthfully a theft from me.

I heard long afterward that he let his daughter read this letter, as he
knew that she was often with Richard Jordan, and he desired to acquaint
her that I meant to be well in all my principles. This was as I understood
it.

The loss of this money gave me little concern, I assure thee; and now that
it would never be put to its originally-intended use, I perhaps cared less
than I ordinarily might have cared; for friend Barbara's long silence
could help me but to one conclusion, and that was that she would never be
my wife. For had she consented to be guided by her former promise, her
confession of much care