Once on the back of Bedouin, who danced for a few moments like a playful kitten, Edith felt sure she was going alone, and abandoning herself to her delight she flew down the carriage road at a terrific speed, which startled even Victor, great as was his faith in his young lady's skill. But Edith had the utmost confidence in Bedouin, while Bedouin had the utmost confidence in Edith, and by the time they were out upon the main road they had come to a most amicable understanding. "I mean to gallop round to the office now," thought Edith; "and then I shall not be obliged to hurry away from Grassy Spring." Accordingly Bedouin was turned toward the village, and in an inconceivably short space of time she stood before the door of the post-office. "Give me Mr. Harrington's mail, please," Edith said to the clerk who came out to meet her; "and--and Mr. St. Claire's too, I'm going up there, and can take it as well as not." The clerk withdrew, and soon returned with papers for Richard, and a letter for Arthur. It was post-marked at Worcester, and Edith thought of Mr. Griswold, as she thrust it into her pocket, and started for Grassy Spring, where Arthur was anxiously awaiting her. Hastening out to meet her, he held her hand in his, while he led her up the walk, telling her by his manner, if by nothing else, how glad he was to see her. "It has seemed an age since Tuesday," he said. "I only live on lesson-days. I wish it was lesson-day always." "So do I," said Edith, impulsively, repenting her words the moment she met the peculiar glance of Arthur's eyes. She was beginning to be afraid of him, and half wished Richard was there. Remembering his letter at last, she gave it to him, explaining how she came by it, and marvelling at the sudden whiteness of his face. "I will wait till she is gone," he thought, as he recognized Dr. Griswold's writing, and knew well what it was about. "I won't let anything mar the bliss of the next two hours," and he laid it upon the table. "Ain't you going to read it?" asked Edith, as earnestly as if she knew the contents of that letter would save her from much future pain. "Read it," she persisted, declaring, with pretty willfulness that she would not touch a pencil until he complied with her request. "I suppose I must yield then," he said, withdrawing into the adjoining room, where he broke the seal and read--once--twice-- three times--lingering longest over the sentences which we subjoin.