Jessie mailed her letter before she went to sleep that night. Annabel easily dropped off to slumber, but it was not so with Jessie; for had not this been the most eventful day of her life?
How she wished Mrs. Varrick had not exacted a promise from her that she would never again hold any communication with her son Hubert! Would he believe her guilty when he returned home and his mother told him all that had transpired?
She could imagine the horror on his face as he listened; and this thought was so bitter to Jessie that she cried herself to sleep over it.
The third day of her stay a letter from her uncle came to her. Her cousin was married and gone away, he wrote, and he would be only too glad to forget and forgive by-gones.
Two days later, Frank Moray saw her safely on the train which would take her as far as Clayton, where her uncle promised to meet her.
"If I write to you sometimes, will you answer my letters, little Jessie?" asked Frank Moray, as he found her a seat in a well-crowded car, and bent over her for the last glance into the girl's beautiful, wistful face.
"Yes," she answered, absently.
For a moment his hand closed over hers; he looked at her with his whole soul in his honest eyes, then he turned and quickly left her.
He stood on the platform and watched her sweet face at the window until the train was out of sight, then he moved slowly away.
Jessie stared hard through the window, but she never saw any of the scenes through which she was whirling so rapidly. Her thoughts were with Hubert Varrick.