and penitence.

And now she was seizing the opportunity of purchasing his forgiveness
by an act of atonement in kind, in securing what seemed to her to be
probably a stamp of some unknown value--to a boy. But she did not tell
all this to Caffyn.

'Do you know about stamps--is this a rare one?' she said, and brought
the stamp she had removed to Caffyn. The postmark had obliterated the
name upon it.

'Let's look at the letter,' said Caffyn; and Dolly put it in his
hand.

He took it to the window, and gave a slight start. 'When did this
come?' he said sharply.

'Just now,' said Dolly; 'a minute or two before you came. I heard the
postman, and I ran out into the hall to see the letters drop in the
box, and then I saw this one with the stamp, and the box wasn't
locked, so I took it out and tore the stamp off. Why do you look like
that, Harold? It's only for Mabel, and she won't mind.'

Caffyn was still at the window; he had just received a highly
unpleasant shock, and was trying to get over it and adjust himself to
the facts revealed by what he held in his hand.

The letter was from India, bore a Colombo postmark, and was in Vincent
Holroyd's hand, which Caffyn happened to know; if further proof were
required he had it by pressing the thin paper of the envelope against
the inclosure beneath, when several words became distinctly legible,
besides those visible already through the gap left by the stamp. Thus
he read, 'Shall not write again till you----' and lower down Holroyd's
full signature.

And the letter had that moment arrived. He saw no other possible
conclusion than that, by some extraordinary chance, Holroyd had
escaped the fate which was supposed to have befallen him. He was
alive; a more dangerous rival after this than ever. This letter might
even contain a proposal!

'No use speaking to Mabel after she has once seen this. Confound the
fellow! Why the deuce couldn't he stay in the sea? It's just my
infernal luck!'

As he thought of the change this letter would work in his prospects,
and his own complete powerlessness to prevent it, the gloom and
perplexity on his face deepened. He had been congratulating himself on
the removal of this particular man as a providential arrangement made
with some regard to his own convenience. And to see him resuscitated,
at that time of all others, was hard indeed to bear. And yet what
could he do?

As Caffyn stood by the window with Holroyd's letter in his hand, he
f