'Dear Polly,' it began, 'I fear you must have thought me very strange and unkind last evening--your reproachful eyes are haunting me now. I cannot bear you to misunderstand me. "No one shall come between us." Ah, I remember you said that; it was so like you, dear--so like my Polly! Now you must try not to think hardly of me--a great trouble has befallen me, as Aunt Milly and Richard know, and I must go away to bear it; no one can help me to bear it; your little fingers cannot lighten it, Polly--your sympathy could not avail me; it is my own burden, and I must bear it alone. You must not fret if we do not meet for some time--it is better so, far better. I have my work; and, dear, I pray that you may be very happy with the man you love (if he be the one you love, Polly).' 'Oh, Richard, he ought not to have said that!' 'She will not understand; go on, Aunt Milly.' 'But there can be no doubt of that, he is a good man, almost worthy of my Polly; but I must not say that any longer, for you are Heriot's Polly now, are you not? but whose ever you are, God bless you, dear.--Roy.' Mildred folded the letter sadly. 'He has betrayed himself in every line,' she said, slowly and thoughtfully. 'Richard, it will break my heart to do it, but I think Polly ought not to see this; we must keep it from her, and one day we must tell Roy.' 'I was afraid you might say so, but if you knew how he pleaded that this might be given to her; he seemed to think it would hinder her fretting. "She cares for me more than any of you know--more than she knows herself," he said, as he urged me to take it.' 'What must we do? I It will set her thinking. No, Richard, it is too venturesome an experiment.' But Mildred's wise precautions were doomed to be frustrated, for at that moment Polly quietly opened the door and confronted them. The two conspirators moved apart somewhat guiltily. 'Am I interrupting you? I knocked, but no one answered. Aunt Milly looks disconcerted,' said Polly, eyeing them both with keen inquisitive glance. 'I--I only wanted to know if Richard has brought me a message or note from Roy?' Richard hesitated and looked at Mildred. This business was making him anxious; he would fain wash his hands of it. 'Why do you not answer?' continued the girl, palpitating a little. 'Is that letter for me, Aunt Milly?' and as Mildred reluctantly handed it to her, a reproachful colour overspread Polly's face. 'Were you keeping this from me? I thought people's letters were sacred property,' continued the little lady, proudly. 'I did not think you could do such a thing, Aunt Milly.' 'Dear Polly!' remonstrated Richard; but Mildred interposed with quiet dignity-- 'Polly should be just, even though she is unhappy. Roy wished me to read his letter, and I have done so.' 'Forgive me!' returned Polly, almost melting into tears. 'I know I ought not to have spoken so, but it has been such a miserable day,' and she leant against Mildred as she read the note.