I shivered from head to foot; and Ronald, frightened at the effect of his words, began to soothe me by every means in his power. But although I clung to him, and realised to the full the happiness of having him with me, I could not help picturing that parting scene with William Greystock. He had gone out of my presence with all the savage misery of a disappointed man burning in his heart, and thus had hastened the death that had been ever near at hand. It was no fault of mine that had hurried on his end, yet I must have been a far harder woman than I was, if I could have heard of that end unmoved. We were set free for ever from the baneful spell that he had exercised over our lives; and there came to me at that moment a prophetic conviction that all our doubts and misunderstandings would be buried with him. "And now," said Ronald, still stroking my hair with his old fond touch, "let us talk of happier things, Louie. I have something else to tell you that will drive all sad thoughts away. Your good old friend, the rector, has taken me into his favour and—" "Then he is going to help you! Oh, Ronald, he has influence, but he seldom cares to use it." "He has already used it for our sakes. This morning he put a letter into my hand, offering me the post of secretary to a rich company. I will tell you all about the company later on; at present you certainly are not strong enough to be bothered with business details." "I don't care in the least about details," said I, nestling up to him in an ecstasy of delight. "I know all that I want to know, Ronald." "Not quite all, little woman. We must solve the mystery of that letter from Ida. But as it is a delicate matter, I think it will be well to entrust it to Marian; she has perfect tact, and Ida will be frank with her." I was quite satisfied with this arrangement; and just then Marian herself entered the room. "You two have talked long enough," she said, in that kindly domineering way, which she often had with me. "Ronald must go downstairs to the rector, who is waiting for him in the study; and you, Louie, must be put to bed." "Not yet," I pleaded. "Wait till it grows darker. It is so lovely to see the day dying behind the dear old trees." But Marian was inexorable, and Ronald seconded her by rising and bidding me good-night. His parting words and kisses left me with a heart at peace, and I went quietly to rest. In a few days, Marian had an answer from Miss Lorimer, which cleared up for ever the mystery of the letter. Ida acknowledged that she had written the note in those bygone days when she and Ronald were lovers, tasting the sweetness of "stolen waters," and carrying on a clandestine intercourse, shrewdly suspected by the lady's guardian. At that time, William Greystock had been their confidential friend, and to his hands Ida committed the letter which was destined to work such terrible mischief at a later period.