’New York, May ——­, 18—.

’Mrs. Crawford:—­I am off for Europe to-morrow, and when I shall return is a matter of uncertainty.  They are married; or at least I suppose so, for I found a list of the passengers who sailed in the Scotia, and the names, Mr. and Mrs. Hastings, were in it.  So that saves me from breaking the sixth commandment, as I should have done if he hid played Amy false.  I may not make myself known to them, but I shall follow them, and if he harms a hair of her head I shall shoot him yet.  My brother Frank is to live at Tracy Park.  That will suit his wife, and as you will not care to stay with her, I send you a deed of that cottage in the lane by the wood where the gardener now lives.  It is a pretty little place, and Amy liked it well.  We used to meet there sometimes, and more than once I have sat with her on that seat under the elm tree, and it was there I asked her to be my wife.  Alas!  I loved her so much, and I love her still as I can never love another woman, and I could have made her so happy; but that is past, and I can only watch her at a distance.  When I have anything to communicate, I will write again.

    ’Yours truly, ‘Arthur Tracy.’

’P.S.—­Take all the furniture in your room and Amy’s, and whatever else is needful for your house.  I shall tell Colvin to give you a thousand dollars, and when you want more let him know, I shall never forget that you are Amy’s mother.

This was Arthur’s letter to Mrs. Crawford, while to his brother he wrote: 

’Dear Frank:—­I am going to Europe for an indefinite length of time.  Why I go it matters not to you or any one.  I go to suit myself, and I want you to sell out your business at Langley and live at Tracy Park, where you can see to things as if they were your own.  You will find everything straight and square, for Colvin is honest and methodical.  He knows all about the bonds, and mortgages, and stocks, so you cannot do better than to retain him in your service, overseeing matters yourself, of course, and drawing for your salary what you think right and necessary for your support and for keeping up the place as it ought to be kept up.  I enclose a power of attorney.  When I want money I shall call upon Colvin.  I may be gone for years and perhaps forever.

’I shall never marry, and when I die, what I have will naturally go to you.  We have not been to each other much like brothers for the past few years, but I do not forget the old home in the mountains where we were boys together, and played, and quarreled, and slept up under the roof, where the blankets were hung to keep the snow from sifting through the rafters upon our bed.

’And, Frank, do you remember the bitter mornings, when the thermometer was below zero, and we performed our ablutions in the wood-shed, and the black-eye you gave me once for telling mother that you had not washed yourself at all, it was