about time I did a few things I ought. And I am using your name. I hope you don't mind that. It seemed to me the only right thing to do, considering how we are bound by promises, and by law. My duty, whatever it may be, is the only thing that interests me much just now. I don't know when this will reach you, but I thought you ought to know, as soon as possible, what I've done." The note ended with the usual "Good-by. Rebecca." And in a postscript at the bottom, it added: "Any time you want to come back, I'm ready for you now."
Reba knew that the note would be in San Francisco within a week after it was mailed, but it well might be months before Nathan received it. The "Ellen T. Robinson" was a very uncertain sort of boat. It was always conjecture with Reba when the bark was due in any port. Nathan had always been non-committal about its sailings and arrivals, in his letters; non-committal, too, it seemed to Reba, about his life upon it, his associates and his exact duties. That the "Ellen T. Robinson" had proved a financial success Reba did know. Nathan had proudly assured her of that, and as proof had once sent her a sixty-dollar check, the first returns, he had explained, from the little pile of earnings he had invested in the boat. That had been long ago—eight or ten months after he had left Boston. Reba had returned that check, of course. Hadn't she made it clear to him that she had more money already than she knew what to do with?
Reba fell to wondering about Nathan a little, after her note to him was on its way. Desultory wondering it was. What exactly did he look like, after all? His features had grown very dim. When she tried
