A light gleamed in Stephen's eyes, and his lips twitched. "This I do," continued Jack, in a voice so low and broken that it scarcely reached them, "placing implicit trust in your assertion that she is--as you state." He drew a long breath. "I dare not risk it; but if in the future I should find that you have played me false--if, I say, this should prove a lie, then I tell you beware, for, as there is a Heaven above us, I will take my vengeance." "So be it," said Gideon Rolfe, grimly. "Now write," and he pointed to a bureau on which stood pen and paper, as if prepared for use. Jack started. "You will not take my word?" he said, bitterly. Gideon Rolfe hesitated; but, at a glance from Stephen, said: "Let the knowledge that the engagement is at an end come from you; it will be better so." Jack went to the bureau and sank into a chair. Yes, if the blow must be dealt it better be by his hands, as tenderly as possible. He sat for some moments with his head in his hands, as utterly oblivious of the presence of the others as if they were absent. Before him rose the lovely face with its trustful eyes; in his ears rang the musical voice which he should never hear again. What should he write? Why should he write? Stephen stole behind him. "You will be careful to conceal the truth, my dear Jack," he murmured. Jack started, and turned upon him with a look that caused Stephen to shrink back behind the table. "For what am I giving up what is most precious in life?" he said hoarsely. Then in sheer despair he seized the pen, and wrote in a trembling hand: "MY DEAREST:--Since you left me, circumstances have occurred which have changed the current of both our lives. I dare not tell you more, but I pray, I beseech, you not to misjudge me. If you knew the position in which I am placed, you would understand why I am acting thus, and instead of condemning, pity me. Una, from this moment our lives are separate. Heaven send you happiness, and--as I know your true, loving heart--forgetfulness. I cannot tell you more--would to Heaven that I could. From the first I have been unworthy of you; I am more unworthy now than ever. I dare not ask of you to remember me; forget me, Una, forget that such a person as I ever crossed your path. Would to Heaven that we had never met! Don't think hardly of me, my darling, whatever you may hear. What I am doing is as much for your good as for mine. Good-bye. I shall never cease to remember and love you, whatever happens. Good-bye! "JACK." Blotted and smeared, he enclosed it in an envelope, and dropped it before Gideon Rolfe; then he looked round for his hat. "A glass of wine, Jack?" murmured Stephen. But Jack took no more notice than if he had been deaf, and seizing his hat staggered from the room. Stephen drew a long breath. "Well, Mr. Rolfe," he said, "we have conquered. As for this note, I will see that it is delivered at a proper opportunity."