Eva was down the first one morning, and was engaged in making the tea in the Cottage dining-room, when that modern minister to the decrees of Fate, the postman, brought the letter. She recognised the writing in a moment, and the tea-caddy fell with a crash on to the floor. Seizing the sealed letter, she tore it open and read it swiftly. O, what a wave of love surged up in her heart as she read! Pressing the senseless paper to her lips, she kissed it again and again. “O Ernest!” she murmured; “O my love, my darling!” Just then Florence came down, looking cool and composed, and giving that idea of quiet strength which is the natural attribute of some women. Eva pushed the letter into her bosom. “What is the matter, Eva?” said Florence, quietly, noting her flushed face, “and why have you upset the tea?” “Matter!” she answered, laughing happily—she had not laughed so for months; “O, nothing—I have heard from Ernest, that is all.” “Indeed!” answered her sister, with a troubled smile on her dark face; “and what has our runaway to say for himself?” “Say! O, he has a great deal to say, and I have something to say too. I am going to marry him.” “Indeed! And Mr. Plowden?” Eva turned pale. “Mr. Plowden! I have done with Mr. Plowden.” “Indeed!” said Florence, again; “really this is quite romantic. But please pick up that tea. Whoever you marry, let us have some breakfast in the meanwhile. Excuse me for one moment, I have forgotten my handkerchief.” Eva did as she was bid, and made the tea after a fashion. Meanwhile Florence went to her room and scribbled a note, enclosed it in an envelope, and rang the bell. The servant answered. “Tell John to take this to Mr. Plowden’s lodgings at once; and if he should be out, to follow him till he finds him, and deliver it.” “Yes, miss.” Ten minutes later Mr. Plowden got the following note: “Come here at once. Eva has heard from Ernest Kershaw, and announces her intention of throwing you over and marrying him. Be prepared for a struggle, but do not show that you have heard from me. You must find means to hold your own. Burn this.” Mr. Plowden whistled as he laid the paper down. Going to his desk, he unlocked it, and extracted the letter he had received from Eva, in which she acknowledged her engagement to him, and then, seizing his hat, walked swiftly towards the Cottage. Meanwhile Florence made her way downstairs again, saying to herself as she went, “An unlucky chance. If I had seen the letter first, I would have burned it. But we shall win yet. She has not the stamina to stand out against that brute.” As soon as she reached the dining-room Eva began to say something more about her letter, but her sister stopped her quickly. “Let me have my breakfast in peace, Eva. We will talk of the letter afterwards. He does not interest me, your Ernest, and it takes away my appetite to talk business at meals.” Eva ceased, and sat silent; breakfast had no charms for her that morning.