"Will it end in that way," she asked herself, "if the matron says No ?" She began her letter.
"DEAR MADAM--So long a time has passed since you heard from me that I almost shrink from writing to you.

I am afraid you have already given me up in your own mind as a hard-hearted, ungrateful woman.
"I have been leading a false life; I have not been fit to write to you before to-day.

Now, when I am doing what I can to atone to those whom I have injured--now, when I repent with my whole heart--may I ask leave to return to the friend who has borne with me and helped me through many miserable years?
Oh, madam, do not cast me off! I have no one to turn to but you.
"Will you let me own everything to you?
Will you forgive me when you know what I have done?
Will you take me back into the Refuge, if you have any employment for me by which I may earn my shelter and my bread?
"Before the night comes I must leave the house from which I am now writing.

I have nowhere to go to.

The little money, the few valuable possessions I have, must be left behind me: they have been obtained under false pretenses; they are not mine.