MY DEAR SISTER [he wrote], I fear I have offended you more deeply than ever; I was scarcely sane when I saw you to-day. Try, for God's sake, to forget it. I am leaving London to-morrow for a few weeks, and trust that when I return you will let me see you again; for until you assure me with your own lips, Fan, that I am forgiven, the thought of my behaviour to-day will be a constant misery. And will you in the meantime let yourself be guided by Mr. Travers, who was our father's solicitor and friend, and who can tell you what his last wishes about you were? Whatever you may receive from Mr. Travers will come to you, _not from me,_ but from your father. If Mr. Travers asks you to his house please go, and look on him as your best friend. I believe that Mr. Tytherleigh intends calling on you to-morrow at one o'clock, and I think that he has already informed your employer that it will not be convenient for you to attend again at Regent Street. Good-bye for a time, dear sister, and try, try to think as kindly as you can of Your affectionate brother, ARTHUR EDEN. This letter had the effect of dissipating every sad and anxious thought, and Fan undressed and went to bed, only to lie awake thinking of her happiness. Her heart was overflowing with love for her brother; for how great a comfort, a joy, it was to know that after all that had happened he was good and not bad! He was indeed more than good in the ordinary sense of the word, for what kindness and generosity and delicacy he had displayed towards her in his letter. So far did her leniency go that she even repeated his mad words, “Darling, I love you, you cannot conceive how much,” again and again with a secret satisfaction; for how hard it would have been if that passionate love he had felt for her, which only the discovery of their close relationship had made sinful, or inconvenient, had changed to aversion or cold indifference; and this would certainly have happened if Arthur Eden had not been so noble-minded a person. When morning came she could not endure the thought that he was going away without that assurance from her own lips of which he had spoken. Mr. Tytherleigh would call to see her at one o'clock, but there were three or four long hours to get rid of before then, and in the end she dressed herself and went boldly to his apartments in Albemarle Street, where she arrived about eleven o'clock. The servant who answered her knock did not know whether she could see Mr. Eden, and summoned her mistress. “Mr. Eden has only been home about an hour,” said this lady, a little stiffly. “He said he was going to sleep, and that he was not to be disturbed on any account.” “But he is going to leave town to-day, and I _must_ see him,” returned Fan. Then, with a blush brightening her cheeks, she added, “I am his sister.”