"And so, Peter—perhaps to punish you a little, perhaps because I cannot bear the noisy world just yet, perhaps because I fear you a little—I have run away. But I remember also how, believing me guilty, you loved me still, and gave yourself up, to shield me, and, dying of hunger and fatigue—came to find me. And so, Peter, I have not run so very far, nor hidden myself so very close, and if you understand me as you should your search need not be so very long. And dear, dear Peter, there is just one other thing, which I hoped that you would guess, which any other would have guessed, but which, being a philosopher, you never did guess. Oh, Peter—I was once, very long ago it seems, Sophia Charmian Sefton, but I am now, and always was, Your Humble Person, "CHARMIAN." The letter fell from my fingers, and I remained staring before me so long that Sir Richard came and laid his hand on my shoulder. "Oh, boy!" said he, very tenderly; "she has told me all the story, and I think, Peter, I think it is given to very few men to win the love of such a woman as this." "God knows it!" said I. "And to have married one so very noble and high in all things—you should be very proud, Peter." "I am," said I; "oh, I am, sir." "Even, Peter—even though she be a—virago, this Lady Sophia—or a termagant—" "I was a great fool in those days," said I, hanging my head, "and very young!" "It was only six months ago, Peter." "But I am years older today, sir." "And the husband of the most glorious woman—the most—oh, curse me, Peter, if you deserve such a goddess!" "And—she worked for me!" said I; "cooked and served and mended my clothes—where are they?" I cried, and sprang out of bed. "What the deuce—" began Sir Richard. "My clothes," said I, looking vainly about; "my clothes—pray, Sir Richard, where are they?" "Burnt, Peter." "Burnt?" "Every blood-stained rag!" he nodded; "her orders." "But—what am I to do?" Sir Richard laughed, and, crossing to the press, opened the door. "Here are all the things you left behind you when you set out to—dig, and—egad!—make your fortune. I couldn't let 'em go with all the rest—so I—er—had 'em brought here, to—er—to keep them for you—ready for the time when you should grow tired of digging, and come back to me, and—er—oh, dammit!—you understand—and Grainger's waiting to see you in the library—been there hours—so dress yourself. In Heaven's name, dress yourself!" he cried, and hurried from the room. It was with a certain satisfaction that I once more donned buckskin and spurred boots, and noticed moreover how tight my coat was become across the shoulders; yet I dressed hastily, for my mind was already on the road, galloping to Charmian. In the library I found Sir Richard, and Mr. Grainger, who greeted me with his precise little bow.