hallway of her home, she told me afterward,
everything seemed strange to her and terribly lonely. A day's time had
changed the aspect of the world. She sat down in the study at the little
desk where she had found solace so often in writing letters to Mr.
Lincoln. But she was not thinking now of writing any such letter:
indeed, the door had already closed upon this phase of her imaginative
life, as it had closed on other and earlier phases. She never wrote
another letter to Mr. Lincoln.

She was not outwardly excited, nor did she tear up a single sheet of
notepaper, nor give any attention to the form of address. Her letter
was exactly like herself--simple, direct, and straight out of her heart.
She had no need of making any changes, for this was all she had to say:

DEAR NORT:

Why have you gone away from Hempfield, and where are you?
Just at the moment I found you, and found myself, you have
gone away. Is it anything I have done, or have not done? It
seems to me, as I look back, that I have been fast asleep
all the years, until last night when you wakened me. I know
I am awake, because everything I see to-day is changed from
what it was yesterday; everything is more beautiful and
nobler--and sadder. When I went down this morning I seemed
to see a new Hempfield. I loved it even more than I loved
the old Hempfield, and as I met the children on their way to
school I had a new feeling for them, too. They seemed very
dear to me.

I did not find you at the office, but my heart kept saying
to me, "Nort will soon be here.... In a moment Nort will be
coming in." Whenever I heard a step on the porch I said, "It
is surely Nort," but you did not come. I think the office
never seemed so wonderful to me as it did to-day, for the
thought that you had been there, and would be there again.
Everything reminded me of you, of the way you looked, and of
what you did, and how your voice sounded.

And then your letter came. Why have you gone away from
Hempfield? I could not make it any plainer last night,
Nort. I did not understand it fully myself, until afterward.
Don't you see? I have nothing to give that is not yours for
the asking. Come back, for I love you, Nort.

ANTHY.

This letter, which I did not know about until long afterward, was never
sent, for Anthy had no way of addressing it.

That eveni