'The waiting would be hard; yet, if inspired by hope, I would undergo it, Hester, and trust while life was spared to me. We are told that "the meshes of our destiny are spinning every day," silently, deftly, and we unconsciously aid in the spinning--scarcely knowing that--as we stumble through the darkness to the everlasting light--the dangers we have passed by, and the fires we have passed through, are all, in different ways, the process that makes us godlike, strong and free.' Much more followed that was a little abstruse, and then he seemed to become loving and tender in spite of the manner in which he strove to modify his letter. 'I depart in an hour, and tide what may, my last thoughts will ever be of you--my last wish a prayer for your happiness! My life's love--my life's love, for such you are still--once more farewell! 'MALCOLM SKENE.' Certainly the gentle-hearted Hester could not but be moved by this letter, coming as it did under all the circumstances from the writer in a remote and perilous land. She looked at the date after perusing the letter more than once, and her spirit sank with a dread of what might have transpired since then. She recalled vividly the face of Malcolm Skene, and his eyes, that were soft yet full of power, more frequently grave than merry, and his firm lips. He was a man whose features and bearing would have been remarkable amid any group of men, and the first to arrest a woman's attention and arouse her interest. But as she re-read his expressions of love she shook her handsome head slowly and gravely, and thought with Collins: Friendship often ends in love, But love in friendship never!' To this letter a terrible sequel was close at hand. This she found in the newspapers of the following day, and while her whole mind was full of that remarkable and most unexpected missive to which she could send no answer: 'Captain Malcolm Skene, who with a native guide quitted Cairo some weeks ago, has not been heard of since he entered the Wady Faregh, at a point more than ten Egyptian _shoni_ or thirty miles British, beyond Memphis, which was not in his direct way. 'This energetic and distinguished young officer is the bearer of despatches to the Egyptian Colonel commanding a Camel Battery and Black Battalion near Dayer-el-Syrian, which district he certainly had not reached when the latest intelligence came from that somewhat desolate quarter. 'Doubts are now--when too late--entertained as to the fidelity of Hassan Abdullah, his guide. A camel supposed to have been his has been found dead of thirst in the desert, and as there have been some dreadful sand-storms in that district, the greatest fears are entertained at headquarters that Captain Skene has perished in the wilderness--dying in the execution of his duty to his Queen and country, as truly and as bravely as if he had met a soldier's death in battle.'