"I'm sure, I'm much obliged to you for the assurance," said Philip. " I shall value it and remember it."
It would not have been hard for Philip to set down Mr. Stone as a mere softhearted, philandering parson—a type ready made to his hand. Mrs. Carpenter, on the other hand, was a shrewd sagacious woman. But somehow he was impressed by the minister's words, and quite untouched by those of the lady. At last those of the dancers who were tired of the sport, left the circle and wandered back to the shore. The afternoon was drawing to a close, the western sky was beginning to blush crimson and the shadows to grow long on the grass. Only half an hour remained before the moment fixed for the return to Newport. Philip resolved to turn it to account. He followed Miss Congreve to a certain rocky platform, overlooking the water, whither, with a couple of elderly ladies, she had gone to watch the sunset. He found no difficulty in persuading her to wander aside from her companions. There was no mistrust in her keen and delicate face. It was incredible that she should have meant defiance; but her very repose and placidity had a strangely irritating action upon Philip. They affected him as the climax of insolence. He drew from his breast-pocket a small portfolio, containing a dozen letters, among which was the last one he had received from Graham.
"I shall take the liberty, for once, Miss Congreve," he said, "of violating the injunction which you laid upon me this morning with regard to Robert Graham. I have here a letter which I should like you to see."
"From Mr. Graham himself?"
"From Graham himself—written just before his death." He held it out, but Henrietta made no movement to take it.
"I have no desire to see it," she said. "I had rather not. You know he wrote also to me at that moment."
"I'm sure," said Philip, "I should not refuse to see your letter."
"I can't offer to show it to you. I immediately destroyed it."
"Well, you see I've kept mine.—It's not long," Osborne pursued. Miss Congreve, as if with a strong effort, put out her hand and took the document. She looked at the direction for some moments, in silence, and then raised her eyes toward Osborne. "Do you value it?" she asked. "Does it contain anything you wish to keep?"
"No; I give it to you, for that matter."
"Well then!" said Henrietta. And she tore the letter twice across, and threw the scraps into the sea.
"Ah!" cried Osborne, "what the devil have you done?"
"Don't be violent, Mr. Osborne," said the young girl. "I hadn't the slightest intention of reading it. You are properly punished for having disobeyed me."
Philip swallowed his rage at a gulp, and followed her as she turned away.
III.
In the middle of September Mrs. Dodd came to Newport, to stay with a friend—somewhat out of humor at having been invited at the fag end of the season, but on the whole very much the same Mrs. Dodd as before; or rather not quite the same, for, in her way, she had taken Graham's death very much to heart. A couple of days after her arrival, she met Philip in the street, and
