"Yes, dear," said Ronnie. "But you forgot to enclose the note. It was not there. I tore the envelope right open; I hunted high and low. Then we concluded you had after all considered it unimportant."
"It was all-important, Ronnie; and it was there."
"It was—where?" asked Ronnie.
"Under Aubrey's foot.... Oh, hush, darling, hush! We must not say hard things of a man who has confessed, and who is bitterly repentant. I can't tell you the whole story now; you shall hear every detail later; but he saw it fall from the letter, as you opened it. He was tempted, first, to cover it with his foot; then, to put it in his pocket; and, after he had read it, he wrote to me implying that you had told him the news it contained; so, when you arrived home, how could I possibly imagine that you did not know it?"
"Did not know what?" asked Ronnie.
She drew a folded paper from her pocket.
"My darling, this will tell you best. It is the note intended to reach you at Leipzig; it is the note which, until this afternoon, I had all along believed you to have received."
She put her note into his hand.
"I hope you will be able to read it by this light, Ronnie. I was very weak when I wrote it. I could only use pencil."
Ronnie unfolded it gravely.