Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met,

came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early

morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in

her eyes. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping

with dew, in the other the post-bag.

She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering

creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window.

Breakfast was laid for one, a dish of fruit and a shining coffee

equipage. By the side of her plate was a small key. With trembling

fingers she opened the post-bag. There was one letter. One only.

She opened and read it at once. It was dated from the House of Commons

on the previous day.

"MY DEAR MISS PELLISSIER,-"To-morrow the six months will be up. For days I have been

undecided as to whether I would come to you or no. I would like

you to believe that the decision I have arrived at--to stay

away--is wholly and entirely to save you pain. It should be the

happiest day of your life, and I would not detract from its

happiness by letting you remember for a moment that there are

others to whom your inevitable decision must bring some pain.

"For I know that you love Ennison. You tried bravely enough to

hide your preference, to look at us all with the same eyes, to

speak to us in the same tone. It was not your fault you failed.

If by any chance I have made a mistake a word will bring me to

you. But I know very well that that word will never be spoken.

"Your great success has been my joy, our joy as well as yours.

You have made for yourself a unique place upon the stage. We have

so many actresses who aspire to great things in the drama, not

one who can interpret as you have interpreted it, the delicate

finesse, the finer lights and shades of true comedy. Ennison will

make a thousand enemies if he takes you from the stage. Yet I

think that he will do it.

"For my own part I have come fully now into my inheritance. I am

bound to admit that I greatly enjoy my altered life. Every minute

I spend here is an education to me. Before very long I hope to

have definite work. Some of my schemes are already in hand.

People shrug their shoulders and call me a crazy socialist. Yet I

fancy that we who have been poor ourselves must be the best

judges of the needs of the people.




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