Hylda looked towards the letter lying on the table. It had raised in her mind, not a doubt, but an undefined, undefinable anxiety. He saw the glance, and said: "I was writing to one who has been as a sister to me. She was my mother's sister though she is almost as young as I. Her name is Faith. There is nothing there of what concerns thee and me, though it would make no difference if she knew." Suddenly a thought seemed to strike him. "The secret is of thee and me. There is safety. If it became another's, there might be peril. The thing shall be between us only, for ever?" "Do you think that I--" "My instinct tells me a woman of sensitive mind might one day, out of an unmerciful honesty, tell her husband--" "I am not married-" "But one day--" She interrupted him. "Sentimental egotism will not rule me. Tell me," she added, "tell me one thing before I go. You said that your course was set. What is it?" "I remain here," he answered quietly. "I remain in the service of Prince Kaid." "It is a dreadful government, an awful service--" "That is why I stay." "You are going to try and change things here--you alone?" "I hope not alone, in time." "You are going to leave England, your friends, your family, your place-- in Hamley, was it not? My aunt has read of you--my cousin--" she paused. "I had no place in Hamley. Here is my place. Distance has little to do with understanding or affection. I had an uncle here in the East for twenty-five years, yet I knew him better than all others in the world. Space is nothing if minds are in sympathy. My uncle talked to me over seas and lands. I felt him, heard him speak." "You think that minds can speak to minds, no matter what the distance-- real and definite things?" "If I were parted from one very dear to me, I would try to say to him or her what was in my mind, not by written word only, but by the flying thought." She sat down suddenly, as though overwhelmed. "Oh, if that were possible!" she said. "If only one could send a thought like that!" Then with an impulse, and the flicker of a sad smile, she reached out a hand. "If ever in the years to come you want to speak to me, will you try to make me understand, as your uncle did with you?" "I cannot tell," he answered. "That which is deepest within us obeys only the laws of its need. By instinct it turns to where help lies, as a wild deer, fleeing, from captivity, makes for the veldt and the watercourse."