She had found it on that day, about three weeks after his loss, when she had come into the parlor for the first time since her illness, and when, left alone for a few minutes by her grandmother, she had gone to her writing desk, and in the idleness of misery had begun carelessly, aimlessly, to turn over her papers.  In the same mood she pressed the spring of the secret drawer, and it sprang open and projected the letter before her.  She recognized his handwriting, seized the paper and opened it.  It contained only a few words of farewell, with a prayer for her happiness and a parting blessing.

There was no allusion made to the cause of their separation.  Probably Rule had thought of the letter falling into other hands than hers; so he had refrained from referring to her secret, lest she should suffer reproach from her family.

Cora read this letter with deep emotion over and over again, until she found herself staring at the lines without gathering their meaning, and then she felt herself growing giddy and faint, for she was still very weak from recent illness, and she hastily dropped the letter into the desk and shut down the lid, only just before a film came over her eyes, a muffled sound in her ears, and oblivion over her senses.  This is the swoon in which she was found by Mrs. Rockharrt, and for which she could give no satisfactory reason.

When Cora recovered from that swoon her first care, on the first opportunity, was to go to her writing desk to look for her precious letter—­Rothsay’s last letter to her.  No one had opened her desk or disturbed its contents.

She found her letter; pressed it to her heart and lips many times; then made a little silken bag, into which she put it; then tied it around her neck with a narrow ribbon.

And from that day it rested on her heart.  It was her priceless treasure to be cherished above all others, “the first to be saved in fire or flood.”  It was the only relic of her lost love with his last good-by, and prayers and blessings.  It was her magic talisman, still connecting her in some occult way with the vanished one.  It was her anchor of hope, still promising in some mysterious manner the final return of her lost husband.

While Cora mourned and dreamed away these first days of the family’s return to their town house, old Aaron Rockharrt was sifting the evidence of the story told by Captain Ross; he proved the truth of the skipper’s account; and he failed to connect the young man’s late visit on that fatal night with the almost simultaneous disappearance of Rothsay.

The season passed on.  Mr. and Mrs. Rockharrt gave dinner parties and supper parties; and received and accepted invitations to similar entertainments in return; but no persuasions nor arguments could prevail on Cora to go into any society.  Not even the iron will of the Iron King could conquer in this matter.  His granddaughter was his own personal property, and one of the attractions of his house; it was in her place to wear her best clothes and costliest jewels, and to show herself to his guests; and her persistent refusal to do this put him in a gloomy, teeth-grinding, impotent rage.