She had lured Dallas Bain from me, but as soon as he found out she was married and he couldn’t get her, his thoughts turned back to me. After Mr. Sherwood was shot, and his bride came back to him, I found Dallas wandering half crazy about the grounds, and set myself to comfort him. It was easier than I thought, for he owned to me that if he hadn’t taken that sudden infatuation for Daisie Bell, he’d have married me weeks before. So I told him it wasn’t too late, and he jumped at the idea, and in short, he said if I’d come with him to New York on the first train, he’d marry me soon as we got there. You can guess how quick I consented, Cullen, for you knew all along I loved him, though you was foolish enough to take me on any terms. But you’ll never get me. I’m born for your betters, though Dallas did own that he warn’t no fit match for Miss Bell, as he lived by his wits, and had served a burglary term in the penitentiary. But I can overlook everything, I love him so, with his soft white hands, and sweet smiles, and solemn black eyes! So I’m writing this at the station while we wait for the train to come. Good-by, old friend. I’ll keep your savings for a wedding present. You’ll have to find another sweetheart, and that spiteful cat, Mrs. Fleming, another maid. Letty Green--soon to be Letty Bain--Mrs. Dallas Bain! Don’t that sound grand? Maybe I’ll be back to Gull Beach some time flying in high society. Tra, la! LETTY. The letter slipped from Daisie’s trembling hand to the floor, and the jilted lover caught it up, muttering: “I’ll keep it till I find her, and cram it down her sassy throat, the impertinent jade! Keep my savings for a wedding gift, indeed! We’ll see about that! Most likely they’ll buy her a coffin, if I swing for it--yes, and him, too, the sneaking dude! You are well rid of him, miss--or missus, I ought to say--for you’ve got a noble husband, by good luck, and----” Here Daisie put out a protesting hand, and the old doctor exclaimed: “You’ll miss your train, Cullen!” At that, the man rushed away, and they were left alone. Doctor Burns patted her cold hand, and asked her if the story could be true. His fatherly heart ached for her when she sighed and answered: “It is horrible. I would rather die than believe it--but there seems no room for doubt.” The anguish of a broken heart was in her face and voice, and all his manhood rose in arms in her defense.