Your mother sends her love and wants very much to hear of all you are doing and enjoying.
Hoping that we may have better luck the next time we cross-- Your affectionate father, REUBEN L.VANDERPOEL.
Rosalie found herself running breathlessly up the avenue.

She was clutching the letter still in her hand, and staggering from side to side.

Now and then she uttered horrible little short cries, like an animal's.

She ran and ran, seeing nothing, and now and then with the clenched hand in which the letter was crushed striking a sharp blow at her breast.
She stumbled up the big stone steps she had mounted on the day she was brought home as a bride.

Her dress caught her feet and she fell on her knees and scrambled up again, gasping; she dashed across the huge dark hall, and, hurling herself against the door of the morning room, appeared, dishevelled, haggard-eyed, and with scarlet patches on her wild, white face, before the Dowager, who started angrily to her feet: "Where is Nigel?
Where is Nigel ?" she cried out frenziedly.
"What in heaven's name do you mean by such manners ?" demanded her ladyship.