My emperor! my emperor! 
    Thy face is fair to see;
  Thy house is old, thy heart is gold,
    Oh, take command of me!

  O emperor! my emperor! 
    Thy sceptre is of God;
  Through all my days I’ll sing thy praise,
    And tremble at thy nod.

But, dear Therese, you ought to hear the music; I have quite surprised myself.  Indeed, love is a grand thing; it has made me nobler and stronger.  They really say I am not selfish any more.  But I am weary of waiting here, and so eager to get home.  You are in love, and you have been through this counting of the hours.  We are very comfortable here, and they let us go and come as we like inside the high walls.  I have told you there is a big, big grove and garden.

“We saw nothing of ‘his Lordship’ for weeks until three days ago, when they brought him here wounded.  That is the reason we could not send you a letter before now.  You know he has to see them all and arrange for their delivery.  Well, he sent for Louise that day he came.  She went to him badly frightened, poor thing! as, indeed, we all were.  He lay in bed helpless, and wept when he saw her.  She came back crying, and would not tell what he had said.  I do think he loves her very dearly, and somehow we are all beginning to think better of him.  Surely no one could be more courteous and gallant.  Louise went to help nurse him yesterday, dear, sweet little mother!  Then he told her the good news of our coming release, where your men would meet us, and all as I have written.  He is up in his chair to-day, the maid tells me.  I joked Louise about him this morning, and she began to cry at once, and said her heart was not hers to give.  The sly thing!  I wonder whom she loves; but she would say no more, and has had a long face all day.  She is so stubborn!  I have sworn I will never tell her another of my secrets.  You are to answer quickly, sending your note by courier to the Indian dockman at Elizabethport, addressed Robin Adair, Box 40, St. Hiliere, Canada.  And the love of all to all.  Adieu.

  “Your loving
    “LOUISON.

“P.S.  Can you tell me, is the captain of noble birth?  I have never had any doubt of it, he is so splendid.”

It filled me with a great happiness and a bitter pang.  I was never in such a conflict of emotion.

“Well,” said Therese, “do you see my trouble?  Having shown you the first letter, I had also to show you the second.  I fear I have done wrong.  My soul—­”

“Be blessed for the good tidings,” I interrupted.

“Thanks.  I was going to say it accuses me.  Louison is a proud girl; she must never know.  She can never know unless—­”

“You tell her,” said I, quickly.  “And of course you will.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“That every secret that must not be told is the same as published if—­if—­”

“If what?”