If there were letters each day! But letters belonged to a time when rivers of blood did not run through the world.

She sat up in bed and clasped her hands round her knees gazing into the blackness which seemed to enclose and shut her in.
It _had_ been true! She could see the wood and the foxglove spires piercing the ferns.

She could hear the ferns rustle and the little bird sounds and stirrings.

And oh! she could hear Donal whispering.

"Can you hear my heart beat ?" He had said it over and over again.