My mind has not been kept long in suspense. Felicia's waiting-woman has brought me a morsel of writing paper, with these lines penciled on it in my daughter's handwriting: "Dearest father, make your mind easy. Everything is explained. I cannot trust myself to speak to you about it to-night--and _he_ doesn't wish me to do so. Only wait till tomorrow, and you shall know all. He will be back about eleven o'clock. Please don't wait up for him--he will come straight to me."September 13th.--The scales have fallen from my eyes; the light is let in on me at last. My bewilderment is not to be uttered in words--I am like a man in a dream.
Before I was out of my room in the morning, my mind was upset by the arrival of a telegram addressed to myself. It was the first thing of the kind I ever received; I trembled under the prev ision of some new misfortune as I opened the envelope.