Unable to keep my secret any longer, I said that I had something to surprise Jessie with when she came in; and I brought the flowers from my workroom, and placed them on the table. Then I showed them the brooch and the watch; before I knew it, Josey had opened the case, and read the inscription, and pointed it out to my mother. 'And is it so, really?' Josey asked tantalisingly. 'Why, you knew it was so,' I answered, very hot and red. And my mother left Josey, and came and pressed me fondly in her arms. But where was Jessie? She was nowhere in the house. 'Perhaps she's at mine,' suggested Josey; 'run round, and bring her. I dare say she's waiting for you there.' This with the wickedest of laughs. But Jessie was not at Josey West's house, nor was she at home when I returned. Our perplexity soon turned to alarm. We looked at each other, to see whether any one of us held the key of Jessie's absence; my suspicions lighted on Josey West, but a frank look assured me that I had no right to suspect her. For an hour I walked about the street watching for Jessie. 'Can anything have happened to her?' my mother asked. Uncle Bryan was in the room when my mother spoke. He also, in his own way, shared our alarm. 'Mother,' I said, inspired by a sudden thought, if Jessie comes while I am away, do not let her go out again. I shall not be long.' My thought was to go to Mr. Rackstraw's office to make inquiries, although I knew full well that the office was closed hours ago. But I could not remain still. As I turned to go from the room, a boy's voice in the shop arrested my steps. He was inquiring for Mr. Bryan Carey and my mother. Uncle Bryan, answering the lad, came in with a letter, addressed to my mother. I saw that the writing was Jessie's, and I took the letter from his hand. 'I _must_ open it, mother,' I said. The letter contained these words: 'I have gone away, and shall not return. Forgive me for all the trouble I have brought among you, but I think I have not been entirely to blame. Do not be sorry that I have gone; I have caused you too much pain already. It will be useless, if you find where I am, endeavouring to prevail upon me to return. I would starve rather than enter the house again. 'JESSIE.' CHAPTER XXXVI. I SPEAK PLAINLY TO UNCLE BRYAN. The paper which I held in my hand became blurred in my sight, and for a few moments the only thing that was clear to me was that Jessie was lost to me, and that all possible happiness had gone out of my life.