'I think it right to warn you that it would be well not to speak of
anything that would be likely to excite him, for the doctor says that
all hope of his recovery depends on his being kept quiet.--I am,
Madam, yours truly,

'ELLEN GIBBS.'

'Ellen Gibbs, so that is her name,' thought Mildred. There was a note
of authority in the letter which did not escape Mildred's notice and
which she easily translated into a note of animosity, if not of
hatred. Mildred did not like meeting this woman, something told her
that it would be wiser not, but she wanted to see Ralph, and an
expression of vindictiveness came into her cunning eyes. 'If she dares
to try to oppose me, she'll soon find out her mistake. I'll very soon
settle her, a common woman like that. Moreover she has been his
mistress, I have not, she will quail before me, I shall have no
difficulty in getting the best of her.'

'To-morrow. This letter was written last night, so I have to go to see
him to-day, this afternoon, three o'clock, I shall have to go up after
lunch by the two o'clock train. That will get me there by three.... I
wonder if he is really dying? If I were to go and see him and he were
to recover it would be like beginning it over again.... But I don't
know why every base thought and calculation enter my head. I don't
know why such thoughts should come into my head, I don't know why they
do come, I don't call them nor do their promptings affect me. I am
going to see him because I was once very fond of him, because I caused
him, through no fault of mine, a great deal of suffering--because it
appears that he's dying for love of me. I know he'd like to see me
before he dies, that's why I am going, and yet horrid thoughts will