When he had quite committed the note to memory Brant set about answering it. Whatever else he was or might become--and under the sentence of ostracism this question seemed settled beyond peradventure of doubt--he was none the less Dorothy’s loyal liegeman, and while he could serve her, the future, good, bad, or indifferent, might wait for its due. Therefore, after a half dozen false starts, he wrote: “MY DEAR MISS LANGFORD: “Your note, which makes me both sorry and glad, has just found me. Be assured that, while I grieve with you in your present trouble, I am only too happy to place myself at your service. Be of good cheer. I trust we shall speedily find your brother, and that nothing serious has befallen him. If he should not come home to-night, send me a line in the morning; and believe me, now as always, “Your sincere friend, “GEORGE BRANT.” He read it over when it was written, and made as if he would tear it up. Certainly it was anything but loverlike in its measured coolness and conventional formality. He laid it aside and tried again: “MY LOVED ONE: “May I write as I should if Mr. Crosswell had not come in upon us the day before yesterday? If I may--if your own heart says I may--I shall not need to tell you how glad your note makes me; what a joy it is to have you turn to me in any time of need. Be very sure, my dear one, that I shall run to do your bidding. There will be difficulties in the way this time--difficulties which did not exist before. An old enemy of mine has prejudiced your brother against me. But if the obstacles were ten times as many I should overcome them for your dear sake. “Your note found me when I was in the depths of despair, and while it has comforted me by giving me something to do for you, the future is still very dark, and I know not what it holds for me. But this I do know: that if your love may shine for me as a light in great darkness, I shall have strength to keep from turning back; nay, courage and strength to go forward, if only you will stand at the end of the snare-beset way and beckon me. “Let me have a line from you again in the morning if William has not returned. “Faithfully and lovingly----” He paused at the signature, and read and reread the two replies. And, after all, it was the formal note that a district messenger was presently bearing awheel to the transplanted Southern mansion in the Highlands, and the love letter lay torn into tiny fragments in Colonel Bowran’s wastebasket.