"No!--no! There can never be thanks between you and me. We are one.
Remember that always! Always, Clo--always!"

She drew back quickly, as the rest of the party came hurrying to the
carriage.

And so the good-byes had all been said, and the train had steamed out
of the station; she had watched the platform melt into obscurity, and
then had dropped into her seat with that sense of quiet--of
flatness--that follows the moments of parting.

The long railway journey and the night crossing to Ireland still lay
between her and action. She looked impatiently at her travelling
companions, an uninteresting brother and sister who had already buried
themselves behind newspapers in their respective corners of the
carriage, and almost angrily she turned to the heap of magazines lying
beside her; but as she did so, her glance brightened. Nance's letter
was still to be read!

In the midst of her perplexities, a tender thought flashed over her
mind as she opened the envelope, and her face softened instinctively as
she began to read. But gradually, as her glance passed from one line to
another, her expression changed, she sat upright in her seat, her
bearing altered in a sudden, inexplicable manner.

"DARLING, DARLING CLO!" the letter began,

"I must have seemed a wretch last night and to-day! I mean I must
have seemed very strange, showing hardly any surprise or sympathy
at anything you told me, and taking your going to Ireland as though
it were a thing that happened every day. But, Clo, it wasn't
because I didn't love and worship you, and feel for you in every
tiny thing, but because I was afraid you would guess what was
really in my mind--what I was plotting and planning all the time.

"Clo, I wanted you to go to Ireland because--oh, do forgive me for
even writing it!--I wanted to get you away.

"Dearest, you are to do no more silly things. At the risk of
hurting you, I am saying this. You used to say long ago that I saw
more than you, because I looked on instead of doing things myself.
Clo, you are _not_ to raise money on Orristown, because you have no
need to do it. Lord Deerehurst has been paid his thousand pounds
and you are free--quite free.

"My little sister, imagine that my arms are round your neck so
tight that you can't be vexed! When you told me last night that my
thousand pounds really belonged to him, my first thought was to
say-