e
to differ from her husband, but she could hardly bring herself to
believe that revenge of this kind should have recommended itself to
Arthur Fletcher.

Some little time after this, when she had been settled in London
about a month, a letter was brought her, and she at once recognised
Arthur Fletcher's writing. She was alone at the time, and it occurred
to her at first that perhaps she ought not to open any communication
from him without showing it to her husband. But then it seemed that
such a hesitation would imply a doubt of the man, and almost a doubt
of herself. Why should she fear what any man might write to her? So
she opened the letter, and read it,--with infinite pleasure. It was
as follows:--

MY DEAR MRS. LOPEZ,

I think it best to make an explanation to you as to a
certain coincidence which might possibly be misunderstood
unless explained. I find that your husband and I are to
be opponents at Silverbridge. I wish to say that I had
pledged myself to the borough before I had heard his name
as connected with it. I have very old associations with
the neighbourhood, and was invited to stand by friends
who had known me all my life as soon as it was understood
that there would be an open contest. I cannot retire now
without breaking faith with my party, nor do I know that
there is any reason why I should do so. I should not,
however, have come forward had I known that Mr. Lopez was
to stand. I think you had better tell him so, and tell
him also, with my compliments, that I hope we may fight
our political battle with mutual good-fellowship and
good-feeling.

Yours very sincerely,

ARTHUR FLETCHER.

Emily was very much pleased by this letter, and yet she wept over it.
She felt that she understood accurately all the motives that were
at work within the man's breast when he was writing it. As to its
truth,--of course the letter was gospel to her. Oh,--if the man
could become her husband's friend how sweet it would be! Of course
she wished, thoroughly wished, that her husband should succeed at
Silverbridge. But she could understand that such a contest as this
might be carried on without personal animosity. The letter was so
like Arthur Fletcher,--so good, so noble, so generous, so true! The
moment her husband came in she showed it to him with delight. "I was
sure," she said as he was reading the letter, "that he had not known
that you were to stan