[Aexdev-implement] Esumptuous moments he had n

[Cherrin <eco...@ic...>]

 'Will you read this?' she said, holding out a sheet of notepaper on
which were a few lines in her own handwriting. It was a letter,
beginning--'I cannot.' Sylvia perused it carefully, and stood in
thought. 'After all?' were the words with which she broke silence. They
were neither reproachful nor regretful, but expressed grave interest.
'In the night,' said Sidwell, 'I wrote to father, but I shall not give
him the letter. Before it was finished, I knew that I must write _this_.
There's no more to be said, dear. You will go abroad without me--at all
events for the present.' 'If that is your resolve,' answered the other,
quietly, 'I shall keep my word, and only do what I can to aid it.' She
sat down shielding her eyes from the sunlight with a Japanese fan.
'After all, Sidwell, there's much to be said for a purpose formed on
such a morning as this; one can't help distrusting the midnight.'
Sidwell was lying back in a low chair, her eyes turned to the woody
hills on the far side of the Exe. 'There's one thing I should like to
say,' her friend pursued. 'It struck me as curious that you were not at
all affected, by what to me would have been the one insuperable
difficulty.' 'I know what you mean--the legacy.' 'Yes. It still seems to
you of no significance?' 'Of very little,' Sidwell answered wearily,
letting her eyelids droop. 'Then we won't talk about it. From the higher
point of view, I believe you are right; but--still let it rest.' In the
afternoon, Sidwell penned the following lines which she enclosed in an
envelope and placed on the study table, when her father was absent. 'The
long letter which I promised you, dear father, is needless. I have
to-day sent Mr. Peak a reply which closes our correspondence. I am sure
he will not write again; if he were to do so, I should not answer. 'I
have given up my intention of going away with Sylvia. Later, perhaps, I
s