With trembling fingers she opened it, and read as follows:
“Taylor’s Springs, Tuesday.
“My beloved Charley:
“It wrings my heart to have to tell you, but I fear it is all over with me. For several days I have been growing consciously weaker, and just now I overheard the surgeon say to my nurse that I could not live a week. Come to me, if you can with prudence. It would not be so lonely, dying, with my hand clasped in yours. And oh! if she could come too; but without knowing to whom; I insist on that. Tell her (I leave the time to you)—tell her, that when she follows after, she will find me sitting without the Golden Gate, waiting—waiting to ask forgiveness, and bid her farewell, there—or—it may be—to enter therein, hand in hand with her—perhaps—for I have loved much.
“Come to me, friend of friends—if you can—but if not—farewell, farewell—and may God bless you and your Alice!
“Dory.”
When Charley returned, his wife sprang to meet him.
“And ‘Dory’ means—?”
“Yes,” said Charley.