o her, had
warred with her love and her woman's fear of hurting the one she loved.
To-night, even in the face of the letter to Barbara, she knew that she
should never have courage to read it to him, nor even to give it to him
with her own hands.

In case he recovered his sight, she might leave it where he would find
it. She was glad, now, that the envelope was torn, for he would not be
apt to open a letter addressed to another, even though Constance had
penned the superscription and the man to whom it was addressed was dead.
His fine sense of honour would, undoubtedly, lead him to burn it. But,
if the letter were in a plain envelope, sealed, and she should leave it
on his dresser, he would be very sure to open it, if he saw it lying
there, and then----

Miriam smiled. Constance would be paid at last for her theft of another
woman's suitor, for her faithlessness and her cowardly desertion. There
was a heavy score against Constance, who had so belied the meaning of
her name, and the twenty years had added compound interest. North might
not--probably would not--turn again to Miriam after all these years; she
saw that plainly to-night for the first time, but he would, at any rate,
see that he had given up the gold for the dross.

Miriam got her work-box and began to mend the coat lining. She had not
known that it was torn. She wondered how he would feel when he
discovered that the precious letter was lost. Would he blame Barbara--or
her?

It would be too bad to have him lose the comfort those two sheets of
paper had given him. Miriam had seen him as he sat alone for hours in
his own room, with the door ajar, caressing the written pages as though
they were alive and answered him with love for love. She knew it was
Constance's letter to Barbara, but she had lacked curiosity as to its
contents until to-night.

[Sidenote: The Plot]

The letter to Laurence Austin was written on paper of the same size.
There was still some of it, in Constance's desk, in the living-room
downstairs. Suppose she should replace one letter with the other, and,
if he ever read it, let him have it all out with Barbara, who was
trying to save him from knowledge that he should have had long ago.

The coat slipped to the floor as Miriam considered the plan. Perhaps one
of them would ask her what it was. In that case she would say,
carelessly: "Oh, a letter Constance left for Laurence Austin. I did not
think it best to deliver it, as it could do no