permanent address that he might be sure to find her when he found it
possible to come East again, as he would enjoy thanking her face to face
for what she had been to his mother.

That was all.

Hazel felt a blank dizziness settle down over her as she finished the
letter. It put him miles away from her again, with years perhaps before
another sight of him. She suddenly seemed fearfully alone in a world
that no longer interested her. Where should she go; what to do with her
life now? Back to the hard grind of the hospital with nobody to care,
and the heartrending scenes and tragedies that were daily enacted?
Somehow her strength seemed to go from her at the thought. Here, too,
she had failed. She was not fit for the life, and the hospital people
had discovered it and sent her away to nurse her friend and try to get
well. They had been kind and talked about when she should return to
them, but she knew in her heart they felt her unfit and did not want her
back.

Should she go back to her home, summon her brother and aunt, and plunge
into society again? The very idea sickened her. Never again would she
care for that life, she was certain. As she searched her heart to see
what it was she really craved, if anything in the whole wide world, she
found her only interest was in the mission field of Arizona, and now
that her dear friend was gone she was cut off from knowing anything much
about that.

She gathered herself together after a while and told Amelia Ellen of the
decision of Mr. Brownleigh, and together they planned how the house
should be closed, and everything put in order to await its master's will
to return. But that night Hazel could not sleep, for suddenly, in the
midst of her sad reflections, came the thought of the letter that was
left in her trust.

It had been forgotten during the strenuous days that had followed the
death of its writer. Hazel had thought of it only once, and that on the
first morning, with a kind of comforting reflection that it would help
the son to bear his sorrow, and she was glad that it was her privilege
to put it into his hand. Then the perplexities of the occasion had
driven it from her thoughts. Now it came back like a swift light in a
dark place. There was yet the letter which she must give him. It was a
precious bond that would hold him to her for a little while longer. But
how should she give it to him?

Should she send it by mail? No, for that would not be fulfilling the
le