But, my dear, your heart is closed to every woman but one. Be
happy in your own way, and let me see it before I die. The wretch
to whom that poor creature is sacrificing her life will, sooner
or later, ill-treat her or desert her and then she must turn to
you. Don't let her think that you are resigned to the loss of
her. The more resolutely you set her scruples at defiance, the
more she will love you and admire you in secret. Women are like
that. Send her a letter, and follow it with a little present. You
talked of taking me to the studio of the young artist here who
left his card the other day. I am told that he paints admirable
portraits in miniatures. Why not send your portrait to Mrs. Van
Brandt?"

Here was the idea of which I had been vainly in search! Quite
superfluous as a method of pleading my cause with Mrs. Van
Brandt, the portrait offered the best of all means of
communicating with Miss Dunross, without absolutely violating the
engagement to which her father had pledged me. In this way,
without writing a word, without even sending a message, I might
tell her how gratefully she was remembered; I might remind her of
me tenderly in the bitterest moments of her sad and solitary
life.

The same day I went to the artist privately. The sittings were
afterward continued during the hours while my mother was resting
in her room, until the portrait was completed. I caused it to be
inclosed in a plain gold locket, with a chain attached; and I
forwarded my gift, in the first instance, to the one person whom
I could trust to assist me in arranging for the conveyance of it
to its destination. This was the old friend (alluded to in these
pages as "Sir James") who had taken me with him to Shetland in
the Government yacht.

I had no reason, in writing the necessary explanations, to
express myself to Sir James with any reserve. On the voyage back
we had more than once spoken together confidentially of Miss
Dunross. Sir James had heard her sad story from the resident
medical man at Lerwick, who had been an old companion of his in
their college days. Requesting him to confide my gift to this
gentleman, I did not hesitate to acknowledge the doubt that
oppressed me in relation to the mystery of the black veil. It
was, of course, impossible to decide whether the doctor would be
able to relieve that doubt. I could only venture to suggest that
the question might be guardedly put, in making the customary
inquiries after the health of Miss Dunross.

In those days of slow communication, I had to wait, not for days,
but for weeks, before I could expect to receive Sir James's
answer. His letter only reached me after an unusually long delay.
For this, or for some other reason that I cannot divine, I felt
so strongly the foreboding of bad news that I abstained from
breaking the seal in my mother's presence. I waited until I could
retire to my own room, and then I opened the letter. My
presentiment had not deceived me.

Sir James's reply contained these words only: "The letter
inclosed tells its own sad story, without help from me. I cannot
grieve for her; but I can feel sorry for you."

The letter thus described was addressed to Sir James by the
doctor at Lerwick. I copy it (without comment) in these words:

"The late stormy weather has delayed the vessel by means of which
we communicate with the mainland. I have only received your
letter to-day. With it, there has arrived a little box,
containing a gold locket and chain; being the present which you
ask me to convey privately to Miss Dunross, from a friend of
yours whose name you are not at liberty to mention.

"In transmitting these instructions, you have innocently placed
me in a position of extreme difficulty.

"The poor lady for whom the gift is intended is near the end of
her life--a life of such complicated and terrible suffering that
death comes, in her case, literally as a mercy and a deliverance.
Under these melancholy circumstances, I am, I think, not to blame
if I hesitate to give her the locket in secret; not knowing with
what associations this keepsake may be connected, or of what
serious agitation it may not possibly be the cause.

"In this state of doubt I have ventured on opening the locket,
and my hesitation is naturally increased. I am quite ignorant of
the remembrances which my unhappy patient may connect with the
portrait. I don't know whether it will give her pleasure or pain
to receive it, in her last moments on earth. I can only decide to
take it with me, when I see her to-morrow, and to let
circumstances determine whether I shall risk letting her see it
or not. Our post to the South only leaves this place in three
days' time. I can keep my letter open, and let you know the
result.


"I have seen her; and I have just returned to my own house. My
distress of mind is great. But I will do my best to write
intelligibly and fully of what has happened.

"Her sinking energies, when I first saw her this morning, had
rallied for the moment. The nurse informed me that she had slept
during the early hours of the new day. Previously to this, there
were symptoms of fever, accompanied by some slight delirium. The


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