And then Lettie told him all she knew, commencing with what she had gathered from Coleman about Elwell’s first coming to Chicago, and then went on and told him plainly and simply the whole story up to the time she had left Elwell’s house--told it with her heart sinking. “Surely he will understand,” she thought, as she told him of her interview with Peter. “Surely he will understand and hate me.” But he did not; he only listened intently, and put the points together as she laid them before him. “You say he is divorced?” he said, when she had done. “Yes,” replied Lettie. “He has a divorce, but I think it is fraudulent. I think that is the power Coleman holds over him.” She bowed her head for a moment, and then lifted her eyes. “They were kind to me in their way,” she said, “and it seems terrible that I should bring this trouble upon them. I want you to promise me that you will spare Mr. Morain all you can.” Conway promised earnestly. “They are not to blame,” he said, “and they will thank you for what you have done. You are really protecting them; but if you wish, I need not mention your name at all.” “I wish you would not to them,” replied Lettie sadly. “But you will have to to Coleman. Now listen,” she said earnestly; “I know this man, and I know how little he cares for anybody but himself. You go directly to him and tell him that I have told you everything. He has always thought I knew more than I did. Tell him you know how that divorce was obtained, and threaten him unless he helps you. He is a coward,” she added scornfully, “and you can frighten him if you try.” Conway nodded. “I think I understand it all,” he said sternly, “and I will know how to deal with him.” “They have plenty of money,” cautioned Lettie, “and they may fight.” “Money will do them no good,” replied Conway grimly. “They have not wealth enough to protect him.” He arose, and buttoned his coat, as if to leave. “You have plenty of time,” protested Lettie wistfully. “You cannot start until half after four. Won’t you stay and tell me about auntie and the old home?” Conway resumed his seat at once. “I will be glad to tell you all I can,” he said kindly; “but I am afraid my news will be old to you. I am sorry I did not see your aunt before I left. I might have brought you a message from her.” “Is she well?” “Oh, yes,” replied Conway, “she is well--but I am afraid not very happy. She longs for you, Lettie, and expects you to return. Will you? Can you?” “Yes, I hope so,” replied the girl meaningly. “I long to go back to her; but I cannot yet. You do not understand; but I cannot go back--yet.” She led him to talk about himself; she was hungry for the sound of his voice. And yet she sat in front of him, calm and self-possessed, seemingly interested in all he said; but nothing more. They sat thus for some time, and Conway told her about the old home, and about all of her old friends. At last he arose to go.