The answer seemed to alarm Lady Loring.  “You won’t betray me?” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“You won’t let Romayne discover that I have told you about the duel?”

“Certainly not.  You shall see my letter before I send it to be forwarded.”

Tranquilized so far, Lady Loring bethought herself next of Major Hynd.  “Can we tell him what you have done?” her ladyship asked.

“Of course we can tell him,” Stella replied.  “I shall conceal nothing from Lord Loring, and I shall beg your good husband to write to the Major.  He need only say that I have made the necessary inquiries, after being informed of the circumstances by you, and that I have communicated the favorable result to Mr. Romayne.”

“It’s easy enough to write the letter, my dear.  But it’s not so easy to say what Major Hynd may think of you.”

“Does it matter to me what Major Hynd thinks?”

Lady Loring looked at Stella with a malicious smile.  “Are you equally indifferent,” she said, “to what Romayne’s opinion of your conduct may be?”

Stella’s color rose.  “Try to be serious, Adelaide, when you speak to me of Romayne,” she answered, gravely.  “His good opinion of me is the breath of my life.”

An hour later, the important letter to Romayne was written.  Stella scrupulously informed him of all that had happened—­with two necessary omissions.  In the first place, nothing was said of the widow’s reference to her son’s death, and of the effect produced by it on his younger brother.  The boy was simply described as being of weak intellect, and as requiring to be kept under competent control.  In the second place, Romayne was left to infer that ordinary motives of benevolence were the only motives, on his part, known to Miss Eyrecourt.

The letter ended in these lines: 

“If I have taken an undue liberty in venturing, unasked, to appear as your representative, I can only plead that I meant well.  It seemed to me to be hard on these poor people, and not just to you in your absence, to interpose any needless delays in carrying out those kind intentions of yours, which had no doubt been properly considered beforehand.  In forming your opinion of my conduct, pray remember that I have been careful not to com promise you in any way.  You are only known to Madame Marillac as a compassionate person who offers to help her, and who wishes to give that help anonymously.  If, notwithstanding this, you disapprove of what I have done, I must not conceal that it will grieve and humiliate me—­I have been so eager to be of use to you, when others appeared to hesitate.  I must find my consolation in remembering that I have become acquainted with one of the sweetest and noblest of women, and that I have helped to preserve her afflicted son from dangers in the future which I cannot presume to estimate.  You will complete what I have only begun.  Be forbearing and kind to me if I have innocently offended in this matter—­and I shall gratefully remember the day when I took it on myself to be Mr. Romayne’s almoner.”