The paper fell from Toni's hands and the light of a great inspiration flashed into her face.
Lately she had longed, with ever-increasing intensity, for some authentic news of Owen. She felt she would give all she had in the world to hear that he was well, that her flight had not ruined his life; but she had no means of finding out anything without running the risk of giving away the secret of her own hiding-place.
She had sometimes thought of writing to Eva Herrick, binding her to the strictest secrecy, and imploring her, for the sake of their old friendship, to give her the information she craved. But there were so many drawbacks to the plan. Her letter might easily fall into Herrick's hands, and though the contents would be sacred to him, the Italian postmark would be enough to betray her whereabouts.
But now, during Herrick's absence, she might surely risk sending Eva a letter. She felt pretty certain that Mrs. Herrick would not give away her secret. By this time Toni was quite able to appreciate the part Eva Herrick had played in her unfortunate escapade; and she realised, very plainly, that Eva's unhappy desire to ruin other lives as hers had been ruined, had been at the bottom of her eager sympathy and pretended help.
Even now Eva would doubtless seek to prevent any real reconciliation between husband and wife; and in any case Toni felt that she must take the risk; she must have news, hear how Owen had taken her flight; and surely Eva would not refuse to answer her letter.
She wrote it there and then. It was very short, only a few lines imploring the recipient to give her all news of Owen, while keeping the secret of the writer's hiding place. Of herself Toni merely stated that she was at work and content; but the few scribbled lines breathed a spirit of misery, of supplication which would surely melt even the hardest heart.
Having signed her name, and seen that the address at the top of the sheet was correct, Toni hastily procured an envelope, thrust in the fateful letter, and immediately slipped out of the house to post it.
Up to this moment she had acted impulsively, without giving herself time to think, with possibly a lurking fear at the back of her mind that if she stopped to consider she would tear up the letter instead of posting it. But when once it had left her hand, when she had heard the thud it made in falling into the almost empty box, a great terror seized Toni, and she stood trembling in the deserted street, feeling that she would give all she had to rescind her impetuous action.
But doubts and misgivings were alike useless now. The letter had passed out of her keeping, and she must abide by her own deed, trusting fervently that no further misfortune would follow her precipitancy.
Realizing at last that regrets were futile, Toni turned away and went home, there to spend a sleepless night torturing herself with all sorts of premonitions and visions of ill-luck.