“This is a strange letter to send to—­to you; but I am a strange girl.  Already I am more than expecting you to write and release me unconditionally; and you ought to do it.  I do not say I want it.

“Faithfully, at least, yours,

“NELLIE.

“P.S.—­Should you write to Kate, you are not to tell her, remember, of my meeting with Mr. Hayne.  Of course I am anxious to have your reply to that letter; but it will be five days yet.”

An odd letter, indeed, for a girl not yet twenty, and not of a hope-inspiring character; but when it reached Mr. Van Antwerp he did not pale in reading it:  his face was ghastly before he began.  If anything, he seemed relieved by some passages, though rejoiced by none.  Then he took from an inner pocket the letter that had reached him a few days previous, and all alone in his room, late at night, he read it over again, threw it upon the table at which he was sitting, then, with passionate abandonment, buried his face in his arms and groaned aloud in anguish.

Two days after writing this letter Miss Travers was so unfortunate as to hear a conversation in the dining-room which was not intended for her ears.  She had gone to her room immediately after breakfast, and, glancing from her window, saw that the officers were just going to head-quarters for the daily matinee.  For half or three-quarters of an hour, therefore, there could be no probable interruption; and she decided to write an answer to the letter which came from Mr. Van Antwerp the previous afternoon.  A bright fire was burning in the old-fashioned stove with which frontier quarters are warmed if not ornamented, and she perched her little, slippered feet upon the hearth, took her portfolio in her lap, and began.  Mrs. Rayner was in the nursery, absorbed with the baby and the nurse, when a servant came and announced that “a lady was in the kitchen” and wanted to speak with the lady of the house.  Mrs. Rayner promptly responded that she was busy and couldn’t be disturbed, and wondered who it could be that came to her kitchen to see her.

“Can I be of service, Kate?” called Miss Travers.  “I will run down, if you say so.”

“I wish you would,” was the reply; and Miss Travers put aside her writing.  “Didn’t she give any name?” asked Mrs. Rayner of the Abigail, who was standing with her head just visible at the stairway, it being one of the unconquerable tenets of frontier domestics to go no farther than is absolutely necessary in conveying messages of any kind; and this damsel, though new to the neighborhood, was native and to the manner born in all the tricks of the trade.

“She said you knew her name, ma’am.  She’s the lady from the hospital.”

“Here, Jane, take the baby!  Never mind, Nellie:  I must go!” And Mrs. Rayner started with surprising alacrity; but as she passed her door Miss Travers saw the look of deep anxiety on her face.