Though there was no telegram from my darling at Malta, there was one
from the chairman of my committee, saying he was coming to Marseilles to
meet our steamer and would sail the rest of the way home with us.
Indirectly this brought me a certain comfort. It reminded me of the
letter I had written for my dear one on the day I left Castle Raa.
Sixteen months had passed since then, serious things had happened in the
interval, and I had never thought of that letter before.
It was not to her father, as she supposed, and certainly not to her
husband. It was to my chairman, asking him, in the event of my darling
sending it on, to do whatever was necessary to protect her during my
absence.
If my chairman had not received that letter, my conclusion would be that
my dear little woman had never been reduced to such straits as to
require help from any one. If he had in fact received it, he must have
done what I wished, and therefore everything would be well.
There was a certain suspense as well as a certain consolation in all
this, and before our big ship slowed down at Marseilles I was on deck
searching for my chairman among the people waiting for us on the pier.
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