was a marked improvement; at the end of the second month Rosamund began to feel and look better than she had done for several years. Work no longer exhausted her. And the labour in itself seemed to diminish, a natural consequence of perfect co-operation between the two women. Mrs. Halliday declared that life had never been so easy for her as now; she knew the delight of rest in which there was no self-reproach. But for sufficient reasons she did not venture to express to Rosamund all the gratitude that was due.
About Christmas a letter from Forest Hill arrived at Teddington; this time it did not forbid a reply. It spoke of struggles sufferings, achievements. "Do I not deserve a word of praise? Have I not done something, as you said, towards solving the great question? Don't you believe in me a little?" Four more weeks went by, and brought no answer. Then, one evening, in a mood of bitterness, Rosamund took a singular step; she wrote to Mr. Cheeseman. She had heard nothing of him, had utterly lost sight of the world in which they met; but his place of business was known to her, and thither she addressed the note. A few lines only: "You are a very strange person, and I really take no interest whatever in you. But I have sometimes thought you would like to ask my forgiveness. If so, write to the above address—my sister's. I am living in London, and enjoying myself, but I don't choose to let you know where." Having an opportunity on the morrow, Sunday, she posted this in a remote district.
The next day, a letter arrived for her from Canada. Here was the explanation of Geoffrey's silence. His words could hardly have been more cordial, but there were so few of them. On nourishment such as this no illusion could support itself; for the moment Rosamund renounced every hope. Well, she was noworse
