I wrote it fearlessly and unstintedly . Perhaps I could not have written so freely if the letter were to have been read by him ; as it was , I poured out the riches of my love as fully as he had done . I kept nothing back , and across the gulf between us I vowed a faithful and enduring love in response to his . The next day I went to town on business with my lawyers . Neither of the members of the firm was in when I called , but I was an old client , and one of the clerks showed me into the private office to wait . As I sat down my eyes fell on a folded letter lying on the table beside me . With a shock of surprise I recognized the writing . I could not be mistaken -- I should have recognized it anywhere . The letter was lying by its envelope , so folded that only the middle third of the page was visible . An irresistible impulse swept over me . Before I could reflect that I had no business to touch the letter , that perhaps it was unfair to my unknown friend to seek to discover his identity when he wished to hide it , I had turned the letter over and seen the signature . I laid it down again and stood up , dizzy , breathless , unseeing . Like a woman in a dream I walked through the outer office and into the street . I must have walked on for blocks before I became conscious of my surroundings . The name I had seen signed to that letter was Alan Fraser ! No doubt the reader has long ago guessed it -- has wondered why I had not . The fact remains that I had not . Out of the whole world Alan Fraser was the last man whom I should have suspected to be the writer of those letters -- Alan Fraser , my hereditary enemy , who , I had been told , cherished the old feud so faithfully and bitterly , and hated our very name . And yet I now wondered at my long blindness . No one else could have written those letters -- no one but him .
I read them over one by one when I reached home and , now XXXXX I possessed the key , he revealed himself in every line , expression , thought .
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