"When she made pause, I knew not for delight;
Because with sudden motion from the ground
She raised her piercing orbs and filled with light
The interval of sound."
"Cleopatra!" Mrs. Jerome repeated softly, "and like her, I thought there were 'no men to govern in this wood.' Poor fellow!"
It was a few days, perhaps a week, later, when Mrs. Jerome, who to the mystification of her host and hostess had received no letters, and, to the best of their knowledge, had written none, up to this time, followed a sudden impulse, and wrote the following epistle:
"My dear friend and physician:—You advised, no, commanded me, to eschew the world for a season, utterly and completely. I have obeyed you to the letter. I will spare you details—enough that I am gaining rapidly, and, wonderful to say, I am not in the least ennuyée. On the contrary. The cream is delicious, the spring water exquisite, the scenery lovely. Even the people interest me. I am your debtor, as never before, and beg leave to sign myself,
Your grateful friend and patient,
Helen Jerome.
"P. S.—It would amuse me to know what the world says of my disappearance. Keep my secret, on your very soul.