“I have often thought,” she wrote, “that she might have pursued her misguided husband with the intention of compelling from him the proofs of her marriage. Perhaps she was with him at the time of his dreadful death, and now lingers in America, too miserable to seek my sympathy. How can I learn this? Dear Miss Heriton, can you advise or help me? You speak highly of Mr. Aylwinne in your letters, and you say that he has been a great traveler. Do you think he has any acquaintance with the British consuls in America? Or could tell me my best way of proceeding to trace Julia’s present abode? If you can learn this for me without touching upon her history more than is absolutely necessary, I shall be very thankful, for in all such matters I am sadly inexperienced.” Florence had not the slightest doubt of Mr. Aylwinne’s readily interesting himself in the affair if he were asked to do so, but she shrank from making any request to him in the present state of her feelings. However, for the sake of the affectionate Susan, she conquered her repugnance; and, having occasion to address him respecting some books he had promised to procure for Walter, but forgotten, she availed herself of the opportunity. Prevented by Susan’s wish from entering into any explanation, she merely inclosed the paragraph, with the following words appended: “I am very anxious to learn whether this unhappy man was alone at the time of his death. Can you ascertain this for me? Or tell me how I may learn fuller particulars of the occurrence than this report contains?” With an apology for troubling him, she closed her note and dispatched it; then felt as if she would have given worlds to recall it, and accused herself of folly and boldness in thus opening the way for a correspondence with one whom she had resolved to forget. The thought of Susan waiting eagerly for her reply partially reconciled her to what she had done; but still she tormented herself with conjectures as to what Mr. Aylwinne must have thought of her letter. The books for Walter were sent in the course of a day or two, with a penciled note to the boy, regretting that they had been so long forgotten. There was also a postscript for Florence: “Tell Miss Heriton I will attend to her request, and she shall hear the result of my inquiries shortly.” This was cold and concise enough; so much so, that Florence, whose heart was craving the attentions her reason condemned, felt disappointed. She would not give way to this, but tried to interest herself in the pursuits of Walter and Fred, who were out for hours daily, exploring the rock pools, and bringing home stores of shells, and seaweeds, and marine monsters that frightened Mrs. Wilson and amused Aunt Margaret, who preferred to stay quietly on the beach, with a camp stool and her book.