would send her away; and then Fan, sad at heart, would go to her own
room--that large back room where her bed had been allowed to remain, and
where she worked silent and solitary, sitting before her own fire.

One day, just as she came in from her morning walk, a letter was left by
the postman, and Fan took it up to her mistress, glad always of an excuse
to go to her--for now some excuse seemed necessary.

Miss Starbrow, sitting moodily before her fire in her bedroom, took it;
but the moment she looked at the writing she started as if a snake had
bitten her, and flung the letter into the fire. Then, while watching it
blaze up, she suddenly exclaimed:

"I was a fool to burn it before first seeing what was in it!"

Before she finished speaking Fan darted her hand into the flame, and
tossing the burning letter on the rug, stamped out the fire with her
foot. The envelope and the outer leaf of the letter were black and
charred, but the inner leaf, which was the part written on, had not
suffered.

"Thanks, Fan; that was clever," said Miss Starbrow, taking it; and then
proceeded to read it, holding it far from her face as if her eyesight had
suddenly fallen into decay.

Dear Pollie [ran the letter], When I saw that girl back in your
house I knew that it would be all over between us. It is a terrible
thing for me to lose you in that way, but there is no help for it now;
I know that you will not forgive me. But I don't wish you to think of
me worse than I deserve. You know as well as I do that since you took