Miriam went stealthily to her own room, and took out the letter to Barbara.  She had no curiosity as to its contents.  If she had, it would be an easy matter to open it, and put it into another envelope, without the address, and explain that it had been merely enclosed with instructions as to its delivery.

[Sidenote:  Miriam Delivers the Letter]

Taking it, she went into the room where Barbara lay—­the same room where the dead Constance had lain so long before.

“Barbara,” she said, without emotion, “when your mother died she left this letter for you, in my care.”  She put it into the girl’s eager, outstretched hand and left the room, closing the door after her.

With trembling fingers, Barbara broke the seal, and took out the closely written sheet.  All four pages were covered.  The ink had faded and the paper was yellow, but the words were still warm with love and life.

[Sidenote:  The Letter]

“Barbara, my darling, my little lame baby,” the letter began.  “If you live to receive this letter, your mother will have been dead for many years and, perhaps, forgotten.  I have chosen your twenty-second birthday for this because I am twenty-two now, and, when you are the same age, you will, perhaps, be better fitted to understand than at any other time.

“I trust you have not married, because, if you have, my warning may come too late.  Never marry a man whom you do not know, absolutely, that you love, and when this knowledge comes to you, if there are no barriers in the way, do not let anything on God’s earth keep you apart.

“I have made the mistake which many girls make.  I came from school, young, inexperienced, unbalanced, and eager for admiration.  Your father, a brilliant man of more than twice my age, easily appealed to my fancy.  He was handsome, courteous, distinguished, wealthy, of fine character and unassailable position.  I did not know, then, that a woman could love love, rather than the man who gave it to her.

“There is not a word to be said of him that is not wholly good.  He has failed at no point, nor in the smallest degree.  On the contrary, it is I who have disappointed him, even though I love him dearly and always have.  I have never loved him more than to-day, when I leave you both forever.

“My feeling for him is unchanged.  It is only that at last I have come face to face with the one man of all the world—­the one God made for me, back in the beginning.  I have known it for a long, long time, but I did not know that he also loved me until a few days ago.

“Since then, my world has been chaos, illumined by this unutterable light.  I have been a true wife, and when I can be true no longer, it is time to take the one way out.  I cannot live here and run the risk of seeing him constantly, yet trust myself not to speak; I cannot bear to know that the