Robert doubted whether he should ever be affected like Palmer, but he dropped the subject, and went home to bed. Palmer appeared at business the next day. His face showed a mild melancholy, but there were no indications of a breaking heart. Whenever the postman entered the office, he looked up hopefully. But there was no letter for him till three o'clock. And then it was not directed in a feminine hand. But he opened it eagerly. As he read it his face became blanched. Then he laid it down on the counter and beckoned to Robert. Mr. Gray was not in the office. "Is the letter from her?" asked Robert. "No, but it is about her. Read it." Robert cast his eye over the letter. It was written in a large masculine hand. It ran thus: "Mr. Livingston Palmer. "Dear Sir: You have dared to write an insulting letter to my wife and I demand an apology. You are evidently seeking to alienate her affections from me. If ever she should forsake me it won't be for such a man as you. She requests me to say that your attentions are unwelcome, and that she has never given you any encouragement. If you renew them, I will horsewhip you on sight. "Yours, etc., "Peter Churchill. "Should you take offense at my letter, I am willing to meet you on the field of honor. You have the choice of weapons." * * * * * "So Alameda is a married woman?" said Robert, rather amused. "Yes." "And her husband charges you with trying to alienate her affections?" "It is terrible!" murmured Palmer. "And he hints at a duel. Shall you meet him on the field of honor, Mr. Palmer?" "No! no! I wouldn't fight a duel for anything. What do you think I had better do?" "Write a letter of apology. Tell him you did not know she was a married woman, and will withdraw your attentions." "I will. I--I don't think I love her any more, now that I know she is another man's wife." "You are quite right. It would not be honorable." "Still she encouraged me." "You had better not say anything about that. Mr. Churchill might take offense, and insist on your fighting a duel." "My dream is at an end. I will never think of her again." "You are wise." Livingston Palmer wrote a letter of apology, and mailed it just after supper. After that he seemed more cheerful. Robert concluded that his heart was not quite broken. The next day about eleven o'clock a large dark-complexioned man with black hair and whiskers and a deep, hoarse voice entered the office. "What can I do for you, sir?" asked Robert, who was nearest the door. "Is Mr. Livingston Palmer employed here?" "Yes, sir. That is he." The new arrival strode up to where Palmer was standing. "Mr. Palmer," he said. "I have received your letter. I am Peter Churchill." Palmer turned pale, his knees knocked together, and he looked terror-stricken. CHAPTER XIII. ROBERT RECEIVES A LETTER.