I knew the girls used to whisper together about me, and think me strange, but no one knew my secret--not even Madame, who had more than once sought my confidence; and so twelve months passed away--four years since Jack had left me. It was not to a day, but very nearly to the time when he had parted from me, and it was almost two years since I had heard from him. I was trying hard to grow patient and contented with my lot, for Madame Grainger had gradually taken to me, and trusted me, making me more and more her companion, when one glorious spring morning, as I was coming out of the breakfast-room to go upstairs to work, she called me into her little room, where she sat as a rule and attended to her customers' letters, for she had an extensive _clientele_, and carried on business in a large private mansion in Welbeck Street. "Grace, my dear," she said, taking me in her arms, and kissing me, "it worries me to see you look so ill. Now, what do you say to a fortnight in the country?" A fortnight in the country! and at her busiest time, with the London season coming on. I thought of that, and then, as I glanced round at the flowers and inhaled their scents, the bright fields near Templemore Grange floated before my dimming eyes, a feeling of suffocation came upon me, and the room seemed to swing round. I believe that for the first time in my life I should have fainted, so painful were the memories evoked by her words, when a sharp knock and ring at the door echoed through the house, following instantly upon the dull fall of a letter, and the sharp click of the letter-box. It was like an electric shock to me, and without a word I darted into the hall, panting with excitement, and my hand at my throat to tear away the stifling sensation. But it was a letter. I could see it through the glass in the letter-box, and I seized it with trembling hands, inspired as it were by some strange power. "Jack! dear Jack at last!" I gasped as I turned it over, and saw it was a strange, blue, official-looking letter, formally directed to me. Even that did not surprise me. It was from Jack, I knew, and I tore open the blue envelope. Yes, I knew it! The inner envelope was covered with Australian post-marks, and, ignorant as I might be of its contents, I was raising it to my lips to cover it with passionate kisses, when I saw it was open. Then a mist came over my mental vision for a time, but only to clear away as, half stupefied, I turned the missive over and over, held it straight for a moment; and then, with a sigh of misery and despair, I stood mute, and as if turned to stone. "Grace, my child! In mercy's name tell me--"