the path. Emma, poor soul, had been told to _fly_; and Emma had flown.
She almost fell into the arms of Jenkins, as he opened the hall door.

The note with which Emma had run, at a speed which was now causing her
"such a stitch as never was," came from Miss Ann, and was marked
"_urgent_" and "_immediate_."

The corners of Christobel's proud mouth curved into a quiet smile as
she took it from the salver. She had expected this note.

"Take Emma downstairs, Jenkins," she said. "Ask Martha to give her a
cup of coffee, and an egg, if she fancies it. Tell Emma, I wish her to
sit down comfortably and rest. The answer to this note will be ready
in about half an hour; not before."

Miss Charteris finished her coffee and toast, poured out a fresh cup,
and took some marmalade. She did not hurry over her breakfast.

When she had quite finished, she rose, and walked over to the
writing-table. She sat down, opened her blotter, took paper and
envelopes; found a pen, and tried it.

Then she opened Miss Ann's letter, marked "urgent" and "immediate."

"SWEETEST CHILD" (wrote Miss Ann)--"See what Kenrick has done! We--you
and I--_so_ understand his dear absent-minded ways. He wrote this
letter to you last night, and, owing to his natural emotion and tension
of mind, addressed it to me! Needless to say, I have read only the
opening sentences. Darling Christobel, you will, I feel sure, overlook
the very natural mistake, and not allow it in any way to affect your
answer to my brother's proposal. Remember how difficult it is for
_great_ minds to be accurate in the _small_ details of _daily_ life. I
have known Kenrick to put two spoonfuls of mustard into a cup of
coffee, stir it round, and drink it, _quite_ unaware that anything was
wrong--I have indeed! See how our dear Professor needs a _wife_!

"I feel quite foolishly anxious this morning. Do send me one line of
assurance that all is well. You cannot but be touched by my brother's
letter. From beginning to end, it breathes the faithful devotion of a
lifetime. Do not misunderstand the natural reticence of one wholly
unaccustomed to the voicing of sentiment. I only wish you could hear
all he _says_ to me!"

Then followed a few prayers and devout allusions to Providence--which
brought a stern look to the face of Miss Charteris--and, with a whiff
of effusive sentiment, Ann Harvey closed her epistle.

An open letter from the Professor to herself was enclosed; b