"Dear, darling Esther, I have a secret that I cannot disclose yet. I will soon--perhaps to-morrow, perhaps in a week; I cannot fix a time, because it does not depend upon me. But remember my happiness is in your hands.
"Your loving
"Ruth."
The young girl was bewildered and distressed by this communication. They had all believed that Ruth was on a visit to Esther's family, and Esther had received letters from her with the Portsmouth postmark on them. It was true that Ruth had asked her, as a particular favour, not to reply to the letters, and though Esther considered it a strange request, she had complied with it. Ruth's stronger will always prevailed with her. But what did it all mean? If Ruth had been in London a week, where was she stopping? Esther's character could hardly as yet be said to be formed: it was sweet, but it lacked decision, and now that she was called upon to act in a matter of importance she looked helplessly round, as if for guidance. She was glad when Prissy knocked at her door and said that her father was downstairs. Part of the responsibility seemed to be already lifted from her shoulders.
"Prissy," she said, before she went down, "you haven't spoken to anybody about the letter?"
"No, miss."
"Don't say anything about it, please. Mrs. Cohen is not well, and the doctor is very particular that she shall not be bothered or worried."
"I won't say anything, miss." She shook her head gravely as Esther tripped downstairs, and muttered, "Trouble's coming, or my name ain't what it is."
"I am so glad you are here, father," said Esther; "I have something to tell you."
"I have something to tell you," said Mr. Moss. "Such an odd impression! Of course I must be mistaken. But first I want to know how Mrs. Cohen is. I thought she was not looking strong to-day."