“Hush, I have heard enough,” Nina answered, bitterly. “Go back to your room, Mrs. St. Alban. Talbot shall have his freedom. You shall have him for your husband soon. I promise you that I shall not be in your way long. I will keep my promise to the dead. I will try to secure his happiness!” “You generous darling! I thought you would be willing to do what was right,” Sibyl began effusively; but Nina immediately turned her back upon her, so, having gained what she came for, she concluded to leave without further ceremony. She glided toward the door, and as she came near it, she saw a large, square, white envelope lying upon the floor, as if it had been pushed beneath the door by a cautious hand. An instant suspicion darted into her crafty mind. In a moment she had slyly secured it, and pushed it inside the corsage of her dress. Nina heard the door close upon her, and drew a sigh of relief, unconscious that she carried with her a letter from Talbot Strangemore, that, had she only received it, would have changed the current of her life so far that this story of her sorrows need never have been written. * * * * * Later in the night a little dark-robed figure glided out from the grand portals of Selwyn Heights, and took its way along the sea-shore. It was Nina Strangemore, alone and empty-handed, for on the strange journey she was desperately resolved upon, they who venture forth carry nothing with them. CHAPTER XIV. A MADDENED LOVER. Sibyl St. Alban gained her room, turned the key hurriedly in the door lock, and looked at the letter she had brought from Nina’s room. It was addressed in a firm strong hand that she knew well, and she shivered with rage as she tore it open. “Why is he writing to her? I _will_ know,” she said, and she ran her gleaming eyes hurriedly over the letter, murmuring bitter words to herself as she took in the full import of the words the repentant, shame-stricken husband had written for the eyes of the fair young wife that now would never rest upon those pages.