"TAKE care, Valeria!" said Mrs. Macallan. "I ask you noquestions; I only caution you for your own sake. Eustace hasnoticed what I have noticed--Eustace has seen a change in you.Take care!"

So my mother-in-law spoke to me later in the day, when wehappened to be alone. I had done my best to conceal all traces ofthe effect produced on me by the strange and terrible news fromGleninch. But who could read what I had read, who could feel whatI now felt, and still maintain an undisturbed serenity of lookand manner? If I had been the vilest hypocrite living, I doubteven then if my face could have kept my secret while my mind wasfull of Benjamin's letter.

Having spoken her word of caution, Mrs. Macallan made no furtheradvance to me. I dare say she was right. Still, it seemed hard tobe left, without a word of advice or of sympathy, to decide formyself what it was my duty to my husband to do next.

To show him Benjamin's narrative, in his state of health, and inthe face of the warning addressed to me, was simply out of thequestion. At the same time, it was equally impossible, after Ihad already betrayed myself, to keep him entirely in the dark. Ithought over it anxiously in the night. When the morning came, Idecided to appeal to my husband's confidence in me.

I went straight to the point in these terms:

"Eustace, your mother said yesterday that you noticed a change inme when I came back from my drive. Is she right?"

"Quite right, Valeria," he answered--speaking in lower tones thanusual, and not looking at me.

"We have no concealments from each other now," I answered. "Iought to tell you, and do tell you, that I found a letter fromEngland waiting at the banker's which has caused me someagitation and alarm. Will you leave it to me to choose my owntime for speaking more plainly? And will you believe, love, thatI am really doing my duty toward you, as a good wife, in makingthis request?"

I paused. He made no answer: I could see that he was secretlystruggling with himself. Had I ventured too far? Had Ioverestimated the strength of my influence? My heart beat fast,my voice faltered--but I summoned courage enough to take hishand, and to make a last appeal to him. "Eustace," I said; "don'tyou know me yet well enough to trust me?"

He turned toward me for the first time. I saw a last vanishingtrace of doubt in his eyes as they looked into mine.

"You promise, sooner or later, to tell me the whole truth?" hesaid

"I promise with all my heart!"

"I trust you, Valeria!"

His brightening eyes told me that he really meant what he said.We sealed our compact with a kiss. Pardon me for mentioning thesetrifles--I am still writing (if you will kindly remember it) ofour new honeymoon.

By that day's post I answered Benjamin's letter, telling himwhat I had done, and entreating him, if he and Mr. Playmoreapproved of my conduct, to keep me informed of any futurediscoveries which they might make at Gleninch.

After an interval---an endless interval, as it seemed to me--often days more, I received a second letter from my old friend,with another postscript added by Mr. Playmore.

"We are advancing steadily and successfully with the puttingtogether of the letter," Benjamin wrote. "The one new discoverywhich we have made is of serious importance to your husband. Wehave reconstructed certain sentences declaring, in the plainestwords, that the arsenic which Eustace procured was purchased atthe request of his wife, and was in her possession at Gleninch.This, remember, is in the handwriting of the wife, and is signedby the wife--as we have also found out. Unfortunately, I amobliged to add that the objection to taking your husband into ourconfidence, mentioned when I last wrote, still remains inforce--in greater force, I may say, than ever. The more we makeout of the letter, the more inclined we are (if we only studiedour own feelings) to throw it back into the dust-heap, in mercyto the memory of the unhappy writer. I shall keep this open for aday or two. If there is more news to tell you by that time youwill hear of it from Mr. Playmore."

Mr. Playmore's postscript followed, dated three days later.

"The concluding part of the late Mrs. Macallan's letter to herhusband," the lawyer wrote, "has proved accidentally to be thefirst part which we have succeeded in piecing together. With theexception of a few gaps still left, here and there, the writingof the closing paragraphs has been perfectly reconstructed. Ihave neither the time nor the inclination to write to you on thissad subject in any detail. In a fortnight more, at the longest,we shall, I hope, send you a copy of the letter, complete fromthe first line to the last. Meanwhile, it is my duty to tell youthat there is one bright side to this otherwise deplorable andshocking document. Legally speaking, as well as morally speaking,it absolutely vindicates your husband's innocence. And it may belawfully used for this purpose--if he can reconcile it to hisconscience, and to the mercy due to the memory of the dead, topermit the public exposure of the letter in Court. Understand me,he cannot be tried again on what we call the criminal charge--forcertain technical reasons with which I need not trouble you. But,if the facts which were involved at the criminal trial can alsobe shown to be involved in a civil action (and in this case theycan), the entire matter may be made the subject of a new legalinquiry; and the verdict of a second jury, completely vindicatingyour husband, may thus be obtained. Keep this information toyourself for the present. Preserve the position which you have sosensibly adopted toward Eustace until you have read the restoredletter. When you have done this, my own idea is that you willshrink, in pity to _him,_ from letting him see it. How he is tobe kept in ignorance of what we have discovered is anotherquestion, the discussion of which must be deferred until we canconsult together. Until that time comes, I can only repeat myadvice--wait till the next news reaches you from Gleninch."

I waited. What I suffered, what Eustace thought of me, does notmatter. Nothing matters now but the facts.

In less than a fortnight more the task of restoring the letterwas completed. Excepting certain instances, in which the morselsof the torn paper had been irretrievably lost--and in which ithad been necessary to complete the sense in harmony with thewriter's intention--the whole letter had been put together; andthe promised copy of it was forwarded to me in Paris.

Before you, too, read that dreadful letter, do me one favor. Letme briefly remind you of the circumstances under which EustaceMacallan married his first wife.

Remember that the poor creature fell in love with him withoutawakening any corresponding affection on his side. Remember thathe separated himself from her, and did all he could to avoid her,when he found this out. Remember that she presented herself athis residence in London without a word of warning; that he didhis best to save her reputation; that he failed, through no faultof his own; and that he ended, rashly ended in a moment ofdespair, by marrying her, to silence the scandal that mustotherwise have blighted her life as a woman for the rest of herdays. Bear all this in mind (it is the sworn testimony ofrespectable witnesses); and pray do not forget--however foolishlyand blamably he may have written about her in the secret pages ofhis Diary--that he was proved to have done his best to concealfrom his wife the aversion which the poor soul inspired in him;and that he was (in the opinion of those who could best judgehim) at least a courteous and a considerate husband, if he couldbe no more.

And now take the letter. It asks but one favor of you: it asks tobe read by the light of Christ's teaching--"Judge not, that ye benot judged."