It was only Baby talking in her sleep, but she sat down a little while, and in the tranquillity of the children's room some tranquillity fell on her own nerves too. "At least I have one great joy," she said to herself as she sat there; "they all trust me. She could not give me greater proof of this than in the words she spoke to me about these dear little souls to-day." Just then she heard some one moving in the other room, and rising, she went softly to the door. It was the maid who usually waited on her. "I have brought you a letter, miss. It's just come. Sent over from Lea Abbey." "Thank you," said Caroline. She waited until the maid had made up the fire and gone out of the room, and then when she was alone she still waited. It was very ridiculous of her, but she felt suddenly frightened. There was nothing unusual in Camilla sending a letter at this hour. Her letters and messages arrived at any time. "What _is_ the matter with me?" asked Caroline of herself impatiently. "I am all upside down to-day!" And then she opened the letter. It was written in pencil; written in haste. "I did intend not to have sent a word to any of you, but just as I am starting for London I feel I must scribble a message to you, dear little Caroline. Ask Agnes to forgive me. The fact is I cannot bring myself to write to her, and you--you little bit of a thing as you are, draw me as I have never been drawn before. I am taking a big step to-night, Caroline. It is ridiculous to suppose that you will any of you regard what I am doing as anything but madness, but I cannot help myself. Everything forces me away from what you all think the best for me; but then, you see, you none of you have known just exactly what has been passing with me. I had a great temptation to open my heart to you when we were together out on the marshes to-day, but I could not do it. Remember what I told you about the children. They won't see me for some little while, but as soon as possible they will come to me, and you, too ... if you _will_ come. Tell Agnes I will write to her in a day or two, and that I am always hers lovingly, that is if she cares any longer for my love." The initials "C. L." were scribbled under this. Caroline put down the letter, and stood staring ahead of her, seeing nothing. At first the full significance of what Camilla had written did not come to her. She was only conscious of that almost hopeless feeling of irresistance, of surrender to emotion, which any acutely pathetic element produces. But this dazed, only half-conscious sensation, passed from her quickly, and then her mind began to act nervously, feverishly. She spun threads together, and with hideous clearness she remembered now the words Dennis had spoken only just a little while before. She took up the letter again, and she read it this time deliberately.