"I am very sorry, Mrs. Rivers," he said. "I cannot possibly give you back a letter once posted. Were I known to have done such a thing, I should at once be dismissed."
Diana paled, and stood very still, considering her next move.
"I cannot give you back the letter," said the Postmaster. His eyes met hers; then dropped to the letter lying on the table between them.
Then the stars in their courses fought against David, for suddenly Diana understood. This was the letter she wanted, placed within her reach.
With a rapid movement she pounced upon it, verified it at a glance; tore it to fragments, and flung them into the flames.
"There!" she said. "You did not give it to me, and I have not taken it. It is simply gone—as if it had never been either written or posted."
Then she turned to the little fat man near the door, and impulsively held out her hand. "God bless you, my friend!" she said. "I shall never forget what you have done for me this day."
"We had best both forget it," whispered the Postmaster, thickly. "If a word of it gets about, I lose my place."
"Never you fear!" cried Diana, her buoyancy returning, in her relief and thankfulness. "I trusted you, and you may safely trust me."
"Hush," cautioned Mr. Holdsworth, as he opened the door; "we had best both forget." Then, as she passed out: "Your letter was just in time, m'am," he remarked aloud, for the benefit of the clerks in the office. "I placed it in the bag myself."