Nell stood in the middle of the room with the note which she had found
in the book in her hand. She had read it half mechanically and
unsuspectingly, as one reads a scrap of paper found in a volume, or in
some unexpected place; and, trembling a little, she went to the electric
light and read the note again. It ran thus--and with every word Nell's
face grew pale: "I can wait no longer. You cannot say I have been impatient--that I
haven't endured the suspense as well as a man could. If you love me, if
you are really willing to trust yourself to me, come away with me
to-morrow. God knows I will try and make you happy, and that you can
never be under this roof with a man who doesn't care for you. I will
come for you at seven to-morrow morning--we can cross by the morning
boat. Don't trouble about luggage; everything we want we can get on the
other side. For Heaven's sake, don't hesitate! Be ready and waiting for
me as the clock strikes. Don't hesitate! The happiness of both our lives
lies in your hands. ARCHIE."

Nell sank into a chair and stared at the wall, trying to think; but for
a moment or two the horror and shame of the thing overwhelmed her. She
had read of such incidents as these, for now and again one of the new
school of novels reached The Cottage; but there is a lot of difference
between reading, say, of a murder, and watching the committal of one.
She was almost as much ashamed and shocked as if the note had been
intended for herself.