“MY DEAR MISS STANLEY,” it began,—“I hope you will forgive my bothering you with a letter, but I have been thinking very much over our conversation at Lady Palsworthy’s, and I feel there are things I want to say to you so much that I cannot wait until we meet again. I’ve loved her for two years, I love her now. Besides, she had admitted her identity. "You were watched to-night by Blueskin. She resolved not to allow him or her hunger detract from the performance at hand, as it would be a special one, an evening to be remembered in the gray days to follow like a precious jewel. I must finish it at home. Even in death, Vorsack was not a man. The coach in which the prisoner had been conveyed was already broken to pieces, and the driver was glad to escape with life.
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