"My dear Harriett: Thank you for your kind letter of sympathy. Although we
had expected the end for many weeks poor Prissie's death came to us as a
great shock. But for her it was a blessed release, and we can only be
thankful. You who knew her will realize the depth and extent of my
bereavement. I have lost the dearest and most loving wife man ever
had...."


Poor little Prissie. She couldn't bear to think she would never see her
again.


Six months later Robin wrote again, from Sidmouth.


"Dear Harriett: Priscilla left you this locket in her will as a
remembrance. I would have sent it before but that I couldn't bear to part
with her things all at once.

"I take this opportunity of telling you that I am going to be married
again----"

Her heart heaved and closed. She could never have believed she could have
felt such a pang.

"The lady is Miss Beatrice Walker, the devoted nurse who was with my dear
wife all through her last illness. This step may seem strange and
precipitate, coming so soon after her death; but I am urged to do it by
the precarious state of my own health and by the knowledge that we are