"There was only one way for me to go, and you had to choose whether you would follow me or go back. I wonder how you would have chosen? Thank God, you need not be put to the test. I could not have borne to see you suffer. When you receive this you will know that you are free and can go back to your own people and your own country. It is that freedom from which I hope more than I would dare to hope if I went to you now. You will be able to forgive me because it is easy to forgive those who have passed out of one’s life for ever. You see, I know that I need forgiveness. In my selfishness I tempted you into a life too full of sacrifice and hardship, and I failed you, my darling, sometimes because I was too miserable to see clearly, sometimes because I did not understand, but never because I did not love you. Forgive me, then, and perhaps—if you can—let a little of the old love revive. It can do no harm, and it makes me happy to think that it is possible. "Do not try to find out how this has all happened. All you need know is that I am to fight a duel to-morrow, and that the chances are against me. I know you despise duelling, but this time it has at least its use—it will set you free. "This is a poor letter, dearest, in which I have said only half of all I long to say. If you read in it one word of reproach or regret, believe that it is only my clumsy pen which has failed me, and that I have nothing in my heart but love for you. In all I am to blame, and I am glad that it has been spared me to see you suffer. Do not be sad over all that has happened; do not let it cast a shadow over your life. You have given a few months’ happiness to a man who has never for one instant counted the price too high. You made me very happy. Let that be my thanks to you. "God bless you, my little English wife! In my mind’s eye I can see you sitting at your table in the next room, with your heart full of bitterness against me; or perhaps you are thinking of—— No, I will not believe that. I would rather believe that it is only bitterness, only sorrow because you are torn between your country and your husband, and can find no peace. The peace is yours now; and when the time comes for you to find your happiness in that old love, remember that I understood and that I blessed you. "WOLFF VON ARNIM. "P.S.—The Selenecks are your friends, and have promised to help you. Trust them implicitly." Nora lifted her eyes to Hildegarde’s. The two women who a short half-hour before had confronted each other in hatred and defiance now met on the common ground of a great sorrow. The barriers between them were yielding fast, were being swept aside. Their hands met, and that touch broke down the last restraint. The next instant they were clasped in each other’s arms.