Instead of "forgiven," Garth had written: "LOVED."
"Can you post it at once?" Garth asked, in a low, eager voice. "And she will come—oh, my God, she will come! If we catch to-night's mail, she may be here the day after to-morrow!"
Nurse Rosemary took up the letter; and, by an almost superhuman effort, spoke steadily.
"Mr. Dalmain," she said; "there is a postscript to this letter. It says: 'Write to The Palace Hotel, Aberdeen.'"
Garth sprang up, his whole face and figure alive with excitement.
"In Aberdeen?" he cried. "Jane, in Aberdeen! Oh, my God! If she gets this paper to-morrow morning, she may be here any time in the day. Jane! Jane! Dear little Rosemary, do you hear? Jane will come to-morrow! Didn't I tell you something was going to happen? You and Simpson were too British to understand; but Margery knew; and the woods told us it was Joy coming through Pain. Could that be posted at once, Miss Gray?"
The May-Day mood was upon him again. His face shone. His figure was electric with expectation. Nurse Rosemary sat at the table watching him; her chin in her hands. A tender smile dawned on her lips, out of keeping with her supposed face and figure; so full was it of the glorious expectation of a mature and perfect love.
"I will go to the post-office myself, Mr. Dalmain," she said. "I shall be glad of the walk; and I can be back by tea-time."
At the post-office she did not post the word in Garth's handwriting. That lay hidden in her bosom. But she sent off two telegrams. The first to
The Duchess of Meldyum,
Palace Hotel, Aberdeen.
"Come here by 5.50 train without fail this evening."