"I will state a case. Suppose a very sick and dying girl confided to your care a letter or letters containing her last words to a dear friend, name unknown. Suppose that years passed and you never thought of the trust, and at last, when you had reason to suspect you had found the right person, the letters were lost. Suppose that this person was a dreadful sufferer for want of the words which are probably in those lost letters. What would you do, Dr. Ross?"
"I am very sorry for you, my dear child, if you are in such trouble as that. Can't you inform the person of the contents of the letters?"
"If I only knew what the contents are, and that he is the right one to receive them. Years had passed since she had heard from her friend, and she often said it would be a relief to know that he had repented and died. I inferred that he had done her some great wrong, and she had told him she never would forgive him. Before she died she did forgive him with all her heart, and with almost her last breath left him her love and her blessing."
"Tell the person that."
"How can I be sure he is the one, without the packet? It is enclosed in a business envelope, directed to me. It is very aggravating that I cannot recollect her name—but that I could find at the Home for the Sick. I knew her as Stella."
"Have you made a thorough search?"
"Oh, no! I have not thought of it for years. Just before I was taken sick, something occurred of a confidential nature, which led to a suspicion that he is the one I ought to give it to. I began to search at once for it among papers I sent to the country when I left Uncle Williamson's. I have not looked for it here. I cannot recollect seeing it for years. Now I want you to consent that I go to work in earnest. If I don't find it," sighing heavily, "what shall I do?"
"Let me think a minute." He rose and paced the floor, while she gazed at his knitted brows, clenching her hands in impatience for him to speak.
He came back to his seat, and counted her pulse.
"Well," he said, with a grave smile, as he glanced into her eager, wistful face, "if you feel pretty sure you have a clew to the right individual, ask him some leading questions. Has he ever heard of such a lady, naming her? If he is ignorant, or pretends to be, you are relieved from that responsibility. If he should prove to have known her, you can state the circumstance: of her sickness and death, and the messages she left for a dear friend."