"MY DEAREST RALPH: I have some strange news for you," one midday Ralph Webster read at the Swiss chalet where he was staying. "Our young guest, May Churchill, was married this morning to Mr. John Temple, and both sister Eliza and myself were present at the ceremony. But what I most regret to have to tell you is that this marriage is a secret one, and neither Mr. Temple's relatives nor her own have the slightest knowledge of it. We have indeed promised to reveal it to no one, but we make an exception in your case, as you are our near and dear relation, and also because we are quite certain we can trust this secret with you. "The reasons for secrecy are, Mr. John Temple informed us, that his uncle, Mr. Temple, of whom he is the heir, would not hear of the marriage, and also that May's parents, her father and stepmother, desired her greatly to marry another gentleman who lives in their neighborhood, and who, by Mr. John Temple's account, is of bad character. May seemed very happy, and looked sweetly pretty during the marriage service, which was performed by our vicar, Mr. Mold, and we can only pray and hope that every blessing and happiness may attend the young couple who are beginning life together under what, to our poor human foresight, do not appear very fortunate circumstances. "They started immediately after the ceremony was over for Paris, but before leaving Mr. John Temple made, what we considered, rather a strange proposal to sister Eliza and myself, which was, that on their return to England, that Mrs. John Temple should come back to reside with us in this house, while he proceeded to his uncle's residence. But after due consideration, sister Eliza and myself came to the conclusion that this arrangement was not desirable. But we have agreed to endeavor to find her a suitable house during their sojourn abroad. "And now having told you my news, and with kindest love from sister Eliza and myself, I remain, my dearest Ralph, your ever affectionate aunt, "MARGARET WEBSTER." "P. S.--We were exceedingly glad to learn from your letter that you were in good health, and enjoying the invigorating air of the mountains. M. W." Ralph Webster read this long letter through, and his strong face grew a little gray-tinted as he did so. He had never realized until now what a terrible blow this marriage was to him; never dreamed that the girl's face that he had seen a hundred times in his mental vision amid the glaciers and the snowdrifts had become so dear to him. Now he knew that it was so, but he bore his pain bravely and silently. He went out from the chalet alone, down a rugged stony slope, with the snow deep on either side, and the green ice glistening at his feet. He was thinking of the woman he loved--now when he knew he loved her, when he knew she was utterly lost to him--with strange, even pathetic tenderness.