“I shall write to you,” she said, “--later on. I’m going to be a great traveller. You will hear of me from--from all sorts of wonderful places. And I shall see you again, my dear friend. But I don’t think I shall ever see----” she stopped, and he felt her hands shaking in his. “Anne!” he implored. “Don’t go.” “Don’t say anything more,” she implored. “I have to get through the evening. It’s our--last. So you see it must be quite--It must be quite a happy----” She stretched out a trembling hand for her cloak, and he wrapped it round her, fastening it for her as though she were a child. Then he took her downstairs, and called a closed _fiacre_. In the darkness of the courtyard, by the door, he put his arm round her shoulders, and taking both her hands in one of his, he kissed them. They were wet with the tears she had tried to brush aside. XIX Two or three mornings before the conversation between Dr. Dakin and François Fontenelle, Anne, the peaceful Anne of to-day, received by the same post, three letters which interested her. She knew the handwriting on the envelopes of each, and hastened first to learn what her brother had to say. Hugh, as she had known for some months, was returning to England. His farm had prospered, and anxious to launch his sons, boys of sixteen and eighteen, in the professions they had chosen, he had determined to retire, and end his days in the old country. The letter, an affectionate one, stated that he was already in London where he had taken a furnished house, to give him and his wife time to look round, and decide upon their future home. Anne must come to see them the moment she returned. They were all looking forward to her visit. She put down the closely written pages with an air of content, and turned smiling to the envelope inscribed in the large childish characters which recalled Sylvia Carfax. “MY DEAREST DEAR MISS PAGE, “I _must_ write to you because I’m so happy and excited. I’ve got _splendid_ plans. Just yet, I can’t tell even _you_ what they are, because it’s a secret for the present. But it means a simply magnificent chance for me, and of course it has something to do with my work. Mother and father will be very angry, I’m afraid, but I can’t help it. It’s too good to lose, and one can’t sacrifice the whole of one’s future because of one’s parents. Besides later on, they will see how wise I’ve been. Oh dear Miss Page, _when_ are you coming back? I want to see you so much, because by that time everything will be settled, and I can tell you all about it. I’m too excited to write any more. Only I want you very badly. Do, _do_ come home soon. “Your ever loving “SYLVIA.” Anne returned the note to its envelope with a slightly worried look. What folly was the child considering? She must write to her at once, and insist upon a full explanation.