At last he opened it, and drew out a second envelope likewise addressed to himself, but in a different hand, and with no black edge. This again he opened, and out fell, on to the floor at his feet, a letter that was no stranger to him. His own letter to Miss Freer, somewhat crushed and worn-looking from its much travelling, but otherwise exactly as it had left, him, the seal unbroken, the whole evidently untampered with. And his own words to Cissy recurred to him,—“If on the other hand she be already bound to another, even perhaps by this time married, return it to me as it is, and never, I beseech you, mention my name to her. He understood it. Poor Cissy had obeyed him, and no fear that now she would betray his confidence. But looking again at the black-bordered outside envelope, he saw that it still contained something. A short letter only, written almost immediately after his wife’s death by George Archer, whose was the writing which Ralph, not having seen for many years, had failed to recognize. It ran thus, “LANDOUR, N.W. PROVINCES. “AUGUST 20TH, 18— “MY DEAR SEVERN,— “Already you may have chanced to hear of my great loss. Considering all the aggravations; our long separation; her hastening out to nurse me at risk to herself; my inexcusable selfishness in having suggesting it; I think you will not despise me for confessing to you that I am perfectly prostrated, utterly heart-broken; even though yet at times unable to realize it. One of her last requests to me was that I would, without delay, forward to you a letter which would find in her desk—‘written,’ she said, and ‘ready to be addressed.’ She was very ill at the time and must have been confused in what she said, for the enclosed I found as I send it, all ready, save the stamps, to be posted. I need hardly tell you that I am in entire ignorance of it contents, and perfectly satisfied to remain so always. My poor child told me it related to some private matters of your own, as to which you had consulted her. She was evidently anxious about the matter, so whatever it be, I trust it may end well. You will forgive my not writing more just now. Remember me to Lady Severn, and thank her for the kindness she showed to my wife and child last winter. “Yours most truly, “GEORGE ARCHER.” That was all! Ralph folded the letters. His own to Miss Fryer he destroyed. “And so,” he said to himself, “my story is ended.” He wrote at once to Sir Archibald, declining the appointment at A——, which till now, his old chief had with some trouble kept open for him. He remained at the Château Mornier with his mother till in the autumn she left it for a more genial climate. And one day soon after receiving Colonel Archer’s letter, he read, in the newspaper, of the death of the well-known and distinguished Member for ——, Hartford Vere, and bestowed a moment’s passing pity on the scantily provided for orphan children of the great man!