write and tell you the result?"

I waited for her reply. Neither by word nor sign did she
encourage the idea of any future communication with her. I
ventured to suggest another motive which might induce her to
receive a letter from me.

"In any case, I may find it necessary to write to you," I went
on. "You firmly believe that I and my little Mary are destined to
meet again. If your anticipations are realized, you will expect
me to tell you of it, surely?"

Once more I waited. She spoke--but it was not to reply: it was
only to change the subject.

"The time is passing," was all she said. "We have not begun your
letter to your mother yet."

It would have been cruel to contend with her any longer. Her
voice warned me that she was suffering. The faint gleam of light
through the parted curtains was fading fast. It was time, indeed,
to write the letter. I could find other opportunities of speaking
to her before I left the house.

"I am ready," I answered. "Let us begin."

The first sentence was easily dictated to my patient secretary. I
informed my mother that my sprained wrist was nearly restored to
use, and that nothing prevented my leaving Shetland when the
lighthouse commissioner was ready to return. This was all that it
was necessary to say on the subject of my health; the disaster of
my re-opened wound having been, for obvious reasons, concealed
from my mother's knowledge. Miss Dunross silently wrote the
opening lines of the letter, and waited for the words that were
to follow.

In my next sentence, I announced the date at which the vessel was
to sail on the return voyage; and I mentioned the period at which
my mother might expect to see me, weather permitting. Those
words, also, Miss Dunross wrote--and waited again. I set myself
to consider what I should say next. To my surprise and alarm, I
found it impossible to fix my mind on the subject. My thoughts
wandered away, in the strangest manner, from my letter to Mrs.
Van Brandt. I was ashamed of myself; I was angry with myself--I
resolved, no matter what I said, that I would positively finish
the letter. No! try as I might, the utmost effort of my will
availed me nothing. Mrs. Van Brandt's words at our last interview
were murmuring in my ears--not a word of my own would come to me!

Miss Dunross laid down her pen, and slowly turned her head to
look at me.

"Surely you have something more to add to your letter?" she said.

"Certainly," I answered. "I don't know what is the matter with
me. The effort of dictating seems to be beyond my power this
evening."

"Can I help you?" she asked.

I gladly accepted the suggestion. "There are many things," I
said, "which my mother would be glad to hear, if I were not too
stupid to think of them. I am sure I may trust your sympathy to
think of them for me."

That rash answer offered Miss Dunross the opportunity of
returning to the subject of Mrs. Van Brandt. She seized the
opportunity with a woman's persistent resolution when she has her
end in view, and is determined to reach it at all hazards.

"You have not told your mother yet," she said, "that your
infatuation for Mrs. Van Brandt is at an end. Will you put it in
your own words? Or shall I write it for you, imitating your
language as well as I can?"

In the state of my mind at that moment, her perseverance
conquered me. I thought to myself indolently, "If I say No, she
will only return to the subject again, and she will end (after
all I owe to her kindness) in making me say Yes." Before I could
answer her she had realized my anticipations. She returned to the
subject; and she made me say Yes.

"What does your silence mean?" she said. "Do you ask me to help
you, and do you refuse to accept the first suggestion I offer?"

"Take up your pen," I rejoined. "It shall be as you wish."

"Will you dictate the words?"

"I will try."

I tried; and this time I succeeded. With the image of Mrs. Van
Brandt vividly present to my mind, I arranged the first words of
the sentence which was to tell my mother that my "infatuation"
was at an end!

"You will be glad to hear," I began, "that time and change are
doing their good work."

Miss Dunross wrote the words, and paused in anticipation of the


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