She had written Helen of her lover’s declaration, and of her happiness. She would find a good excuse for her sorrowful face in their separation. She knew he would write to her, for he had said so, and she had slipped the address into his hand as he left the car that night. At first she was puzzled to think what she could do about answering these letters so Helen would not suspect her trouble. Then she hit on the plan of writing to him every day, posting the letters herself and placing them in her own trunk instead of the post-box. “He will read them some day. They will relieve my heart,” she sadly told herself. Helen met her on the pier with a cry of girlish joy, and the first word she uttered was, “Oh! Sallie, Bob loves me! He’s been here two weeks, and he’s just gone home. I have been in heaven. We are engaged!” “Then I ’ll kiss you again, Helen.”--She gave her another kiss. “And I’ve a big letter at home for you already! It’s post-marked ‘Hambright.’ It came this morning. I know you will feast on it. If Bob don’t write me faithfully I ’ll make him come here and live in Boston.” When Sallie got this letter, she sat down in her room, and read and re-read its passionate words. There was a tone of bitterness and wounded pride in it. She struggled bravely to keep the tears back. Then the tone of the letter changed to tenderness and faith and infinite love that struggled in vain for utterance. She kissed the name and sighed. “Now I must go down and chat and smile with Helen. She’s so silly about her own love, if I talk about Bob she will forget I live.” CHAPTER XIX--THE SHADOW OF A DOUBT MRS. WORTH had arrived in Boston a few days after Sallie, coming direct by rail. She was still very weak from her recent attack, and it cut her to the heart to watch Sallie write those letters faithfully, and never mail them out of deference to her wishes. One night she drew her daughter down and kissed her. “Sallie, dear, you don’t know how it hurts me to see you suffer this way, and write, and write these letters your lover never sees. You may send him one letter a week, I don’t care what the General says.” There was a sob and another kiss and, Sallie was crying on her breast. In answer to her first letter, Gaston was thrilled with a new inspiration. He sat down that night and answered it in verse. All the deep longings of his soul, his hopes and fears, his pain and dreams he set in rhythmic music. Her mother read all his letters after Sallie. And she cried with sorrow and pride over this poem. “Sallie, I don’t blame you for being proud of such a lover. Your life is rich hallowed by the love of such a man. Your father is wrong in his position. If I were a girl and held the love of such a man, I’d cherish it as I would my soul’s salvation. Be patient and faithful.” “Sweet mother heart!” she whispered as she smoothed the grey hair tenderly.