He listened attentively, not saying a word till she had finished the recital.
"You say she died in the Home, in the year 18—."
"Yes, sir."
"And that he also was in the same Home for months,—that he told the chaplain his story, as she had told hers, probably."
"Yes, sir; but I didn't think"—she stopped abruptly, staring in his face, and then exclaimed, "Oh, if I could find that packet of letters! I begin to think he cannot be the one after all. Perhaps her friend has long been dead."
"Where did you keep the packet?"
"I must have put it where I considered it safe at the time; but her story was so vague,—and she never mentioned the relation in which this person stood to her. I fancied he might have been her lover. I was young, and thought I was to keep it till called for. I remember thinking as she was a foreigner it was not likely it would ever be delivered to any one. When I left Uncle Williamson's, I kept some papers here and sent the rest to Grantbury."
"Except the green box of deeds, etc., etc., we keep in our safe."
Marion started to her feet, exclaiming, "It is there! It is there! Let us go and get it."
She rang the bell, told James to have the carriage round as quickly as possible, hurried on her hat and sacque, looking so eager and hopeful that her old friend said, cautiously,—