hole; I realised what freedom meant. Freedom! Freedom! Not only
from that noisome prison-house, which has now such a memory, but from
the more noisome embrace of that hideous monster. Whilst I live, I
shall always thank you for my freedom. A woman must sometimes express
her gratitude; otherwise it becomes too great to bear. I am not a
sentimental girl, who merely likes to thank a man; I am a woman who
knows all, of bad as well as good, that life can give. I have known
what it is to love and to lose. But you must not let me bring any
unhappiness into your life. I must live on--as I have lived--alone,
and, in addition, bear with other woes the memory of this latest
insult and horror. In the meantime, I must get away as quickly as
possible from Diana's Grove. In the morning I shall go up to town,
where I shall remain for a week--I cannot stay longer, as business
affairs demand my presence here. I think, however, that a week in the
rush of busy London, surrounded with multitudes of commonplace people,
will help to soften--I cannot expect total obliteration--the terrible
images of the bygone night. When I can sleep easily--which will be, I
hope, after a day or two--I shall be fit to return home and take up
again the burden which will, I suppose, always be with me.

"I shall be most happy to see you on my return--or earlier, if my good
fortune sends you on any errand to London. I shall stay at the
Mayfair Hotel. In that busy spot we may forget some of the dangers
and horrors we have shared together. Adieu, and thank you, again and
again, for all your kindness and consideration to me.

"ARABELLA MARSH."

Adam was surprised by this effusive epistle, but he determined to say
nothing of it to Sir Nathaniel until he should have thought it well over.