“Some memory of his childhood, perhaps, or some one that he knew long ago.” And with that she retreated to her own room. Yes, she understood it all now. From her constant correspondence with Conway she was conversant with all that had transpired at home, and she understood that this husband who had died so mysteriously was not dead at all. Her first thought was one of exultation. “He cannot marry her now,” she thought. But then her heart fell. What more hope was there for her? She was not fit to become Lester Conway’s wife. He would spurn her from him, if he knew all of her past life; and she would not have deceived him, even to become his wife. How should she use this information became her calmer thought. There was only one way that she could see. She thought of Conway, loving even as she loved, and thought, if this blow should strike him _after_ they were married! No; it was better for him, better for all, that he should know it as soon as possible. Her aunt had only written that they were to be married. Lettie did not know how soon. They might be married even now. There was no time to be lost. She must notify him at once. But then again, how? She could not do it from _his_ house. She must return to Chicago; and she got on her things to go out. At the foot of the stairs she met Fanny. “Why, where are you going?” she asked. “Are you better?” “No, not much,” the girl replied feverishly. “I will walk down to the mill. Perhaps the air will do me good.” Hurrying past her, she went out and took her way at a rapid pace to the mill. “I must get away,” she thought; “I must get away at once. Perhaps even now I am too late.” She found old Pat, and informed him briefly that she must go home for a time. “Go home before the election!” cried Pat, in amazement. “Not a bit of it, my girl; we can’t spare you. What is the matter? Have you and Fanny had a falling out?” Oh, no; it was nothing like that. She and Fanny were good friends; only she must go, and at once. Morain noticed her partly repressed agitation. “Well, my girl,” he said kindly, “if you must go, you must, and I will not prevent you. I am almighty sorry you are going; but then perhaps you can get back in time for the jollification;” and he patted her hand kindly. “Yes, I will come if you ask me,” said Lettie, only anxious to get away; and she hurried back to the house to pack her things ready for the morning boat. They were all greatly surprised at her sudden departure; but then, as Peter said, she always was a strange girl, and so they thought nothing about it. And the few remaining days went past until that chill November day came that told all the world that “Elwell and Reform” had triumphed, and that James Elwell was the duly elected member of Congress. CHAPTER XXVI. A BOMB. That winter was altogether different from the preceding one. Time seemed to fly, and Conway gloried that each night brought him one day nearer to Norine.