But in this case he was mistaken.  The evening mail had brought Dexie a letter from Hugh McNeil.  She had heard so little of him for some time that she began to hope (when she thought of him at all) that he had forgotten her or had found other attractions that had effaced her from his memory.  But this unlooked-for letter told a different story, and his half-expressed determination to seek her presence and renew his suit filled her with dismay.

She had thrust the letter hastily into her pocket with but a rapid glance at its contents, just as her numerous guests were ushered in; and her time had been so engrossed that the letter itself was forgotten, though the memory of the eager, passionate words therein was bringing up all the unpleasant scenes that had happened in Halifax in connection with Hugh.

During the evening she had, with the help of the cook, set out a dainty repast in the dining-room, and as she made her way into the parlor again to invite the guests to come and partake of it, she wondered at the sound that reached her ears, for instead of the hum of many voices one voice alone was heard, and that was Gussie’s.

Now, for some time back the frequent visits of Guy Traverse had aroused suspicions in Gussie’s mind.  They certainly were not always intended for her father, and he never offered himself as her escort unless Dexie was in her company.  She had repeatedly hinted that Dexie was “already spoken for,” but the hint was not acted on in the way Gussie expected.  Remembering all this, Gussie’s conduct this particular evening is seen in its true light, but it brought its own punishment.

In some unaccountable way, Hugh’s letter had dropped from Dexie’s pocket while she sat sewing at the badges with the rest, and in searching for a spool of thread, it fell into Gussie’s hands.  She glanced over the letter, but did not notice the signature.  Hugh had been thinking more of touching Dexie’s heart than of giving his letter the usual appearance, and had left place, date and all tell-tale marks to find room at the bottom of the closely-written sheet.  Gussie guessed at once it was Dexie’s letter, and thought it would be “fun” to read it before those assembled; it would let Guy Traverse know that he was wasting his time over Dexie.  No one in the room had the least idea what she meant when she rose from her chair and said: 

“Oh! friends, listen! here is a specimen of true love for you!”

    “My dearest love, my heart’s one treasure: 

“It is no longer any use to try and put you out of my heart.  I have tried to do it as you wished, but I cannot.  I love you, my darling, and my love will not die, try as I may to kill it.  You thought I could forget you if I went among fresh scenes and new faces; but it is not so—­your dear face is ever before me.  Sleeping or waking, it is the same.  I cannot live without you, my dearest—­”

“Augusta!  Augusta! what are you doing?  Is that your own letter you are making public?”