She had told him she loved him, and with her own lips.

That was enough--enough from a woman like Jane.

He would lose faith when she denied it in the same way.

In the meantime she was his very breath and being.
One morning two years after Jane's departure, while the doctor and his mother sat at breakfast, Mrs.Cavendish filling the tea-cups, the spring sunshine lighting up the snow-white cloth and polished silver, the mail arrived and two letters were laid at their respective plates, one for the doctor and the other for his mother.
As Doctor John glanced at the handwriting his face flushed, and his eyes danced with pleasure.

With eager, trembling fingers he broke the seal and ran his eyes hungrily over the contents.