“Do not get angry,” Silver Voice continued, “for it is all for your own good. Let me tell you, that if ever you marry Rodger Rainbolt, you will rue it to the bitter end.”
“Silver Voice!” cried Silvia, petulantly, “why do you presume to speak so prophetic? You astound me!”
“I know I do, but I speak the truth.”
“What do you know of Mr. Rainbolt, Silver Voice?”
“I know much—oh, God! much!” she cried, in a tone of sudden agony.
“And how do you know it?” questioned Silvia, in surprise.
“Take that,” Silver Voice said, handing Silvia a folded paper, “and when I am gone, read it. It will tell you all you wish to know of Rodger Rainbolt.”
“And of you?” questioned Silvia, eagerly.
“No. You do not wish, you do not need to know more of me than you do; but promise me that you will not breathe one word in the paper to the ranger.”
“I promise you,” said Silvia, scarcely knowing what she was saying.