The wintry rays of the sun were contending unsuccessfully with the strong and cheerful blaze of a bright fire in Charles Yeldham's outer room one morning in December, when that hard-working gentleman emerged from his bedroom at an unusually late hour, and glanced with an expression of satisfaction at the fire, the preparations for breakfast, and the heap of letters and other papers which occupied one end of the small table. Charles Yeldham was looking troubled on this particular day, but not as he usually was, full of the care and preoccupation of his work; his generally concentrated gaze was abstracted; and any one familiar with his expression would have recognised that the subject of his thoughts was not present to his bodily eyes. He seated himself and began to open his letters, having first poured out his tea. They were numerous and various: one from his father, one from his sister, a note from Frere, a number of business letters, and one from Paris. His face changed as he took up this one, changed still more as he read: "Rue d'Alger, No. --, 9th Dec. 186-. "Sir,--I fulfil my promise, relying on yours, and believing all you told me of your intentions for the dear lady's good. She is dear and good. She has come back to Paris, and I have seen her. "I am, sir, your servant, "Louise Hartmann." Yeldham's first impulse was to jump up from his untasted breakfast, take his hat and coat, and rush off to find Robert Streightley; but he resisted the impulse, and set himself to consider what would be the best thing to do. Robert had been ailing lately; Yeldham had noticed his altered looks with pain, and he dreaded telling him news except such as was undeniably and completely good. This could not be said to be so. There was no doubt now that the way was opened to communication with Katharine; but much more than communication was involved. So long a time had elapsed, so obstinately had her determination been adhered to, so intense and keen had been her husband's suffering--suffering which none but Yeldham had divined, under Robert's quiet and reticent bearing--that the matter had assumed to Yeldham's mind an aspect of even additional importance. Should he act on the information contained in this note at once, and only tell Robert when he should have seen Katharine and ascertained the state of her feelings, or should he communicate with Robert immediately, and allow him to proceed at once to Paris in search of his wife? In favour of the latter method of proceeding there was the consideration that the mutual position of the estranged pair was one of the utmost pain, and requiring the most delicate handling; and that undoubtedly the husband and wife could alone discuss the matters which divided them with propriety and authority. There was also the consideration of Katharine's excessive pride, which would lead her instinctively and vehemently to resent the interference of a third person. Both these were gravely pondered by Charles Yeldham.