“There’s an answer,” she heard. It came from ever so far away, in the dim distance beyond her vague wonderings. Jenny was lost, submerged in the sensations through which she had passed during the evening. She was quite unlike herself, timid and fearful, a frightened girl alone in an unhappy house.
“Wait a bit!” she said. “Will you wait there?”
“Yes,” answered the man, startlingly enough. “I’ve got the car here.”
The car! What did it mean? She caught now, as her eyes were more used to the darkness, the sheen of light upon a peaked cap such as would be worn by a chauffeur. It filled her mind that this man was in uniform. But if so, why? From whom should the letter come? He had said “Miss Jenny Blanchard.”
“You did say it was for me? I’ll take it inside. ...” She left the door unfastened, but the man pulled it right to, so that the catch clicked. Then Jenny held the letter up under the flame of the passage gas. She read there by this meagre light her own name, the address, written in a large hand, very bold, with a sharp, sweeping stroke under all, such as a man of impetuous strength might make. There was a blue seal fastening the flap—a great pool of solid wax. Trembling so that she was hardly able to tear the envelope, Jenny returned to the kitchen, again scanning the address, the writing, the blue seal with its Minerva head. Still, in her perplexity, it seemed as though her task was first to guess the identity of the sender. Who could have written to her? It was unheard of, a think for wondering jest, if only her lips had been steady and her heart beating with normal pulsation. With a shrug, she turned back from the seal to the address. She felt that some curious mistake had been made, that the letter was not for her at all, but for some other Jenny Blanchard, of whom she had never until now heard. Then, casting such a fantastic thought aside with another impatient effort, she tore the envelope, past the seal, in a ragged dash. Her first glance was at the signature. “Yours always, KEITH.”
Keith! Jenny gave a sob and moved swiftly to the light. Her eyes were quite blurred with shining mist. She could not read the words. Keith! She could only murmur his name, holding the letter close against her.
ii
“MY DEAR JENNY,” said the letter. “Do you remember? I said I should write to you when I got back. Well, here I am. I can’t come to you myself. I’m tied here by the leg, and mustn’t leave for a moment. But you said you’d come to me. Will you? Do! If you can come, you’ll be a most awful dear, and I shall be out of my wits with joy. Not really out of my wits. Do come, there’s a dear good girl. It’s my only chance, as I’m off again in the morning. The man who brings this note will bring you safely to me in the car, and will bring you quite safely home again. Do come! I’m longing to see you. I trust you to come. I will explain everything when we meet. Yours always, KEITH.”
A long sigh broke from Jenny’s lips as she finished reading. She was transfigured. Gone was the defiant look, gone were the sharpnesses that earlier had appeared upon her face. A soft colour flooded her cheeks; her eyes shone. Come to him! She would go to the end of the world.... Keith! She said it aloud, in a voice that was rich with her deep feeling, magically transformed.
“Come to you, my dear!” said Jenny. “As if you need ask!”