d, I must bear the blame myself!"

Thus far Alice had read aloud.

"Don't, don't," said Josie, hiding her face. "Don't read it aloud,
please!"

"But now I am writing, not to explain anything which has taken place,
but to set me right as to the future. You gave me reason to think, when
we met, that I might have my answer. Things which I cannot explain have
occurred, which may turn out very evilly for me, and for any one
connected with me. Therefore, until this state of things passes, I shall
not see you. I write this, not that I think you will care much, but that
you may not believe that I have changed in my feelings toward you. If my
time ever comes, and I believe it will, and that before very long, you
will find me harder to dispose of without an answer than I have been in
the past. I shall claim you in spite of every foe that may rise up to
keep you from me. You may change, but I shall not.

"'Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds.'

And mine will not alter. J. R. E."

"My dear," said Alice very humbly, "I beg your pardon. I have misjudged
you. Will you forgive me?"

Josie came to take her letter, and, in lieu of other answer, stood with
her arm about Alice's waist.

"And now," said Alice, "have you no other confidences for us?"

"No!" she cried, "no! there is nothing more! Nothing, absolutely
nothing, believe me! But, now, confidence for confidence, Albert, what
is this great danger? Is it anything for which any one here--for which I
am to blame? Does it threaten any one else? Can't something be done
about it? Tell me, tell me!"

"I think," said I, "that the letter was written before my telegram from
New York came, and after--some great difficulties came upon us. I don't
believe he would have written it five hours later; and I don't believe
he would have written it to any one in anything but the depression
of--the feeling he has for you."

"If that is true," said she, "why does he still avoid me? Why does he
still avoid me? You have not told me all; or there is something you do
not know."

As we went home, Alice kept referring to Jim's letter, and was as much
troubled by it as was Josie.

"How do you explain it?" she asked.

"I explain it," said I, "by ranging it with the well-known phenomenon of
the love-sick youth of all lands and in every time, who revels in the
thought of incurring danger or death, and heralding the fact to his
loved one. Even Jim is not exempt from the