_"I have told father of my promise to you. He refuses absolutely to sanction it and declares I shall never marry an Englishman. I now agree with father that it would be very unwise. I hate the army, and you say you will never leave it. It is best that we understand each other at once, and very fortunate that we agreed not to speak of our engagement. I have not heard from you in three months, and so I presume you are tired of it and as glad to break as I am."_
That was all. The dazed convalescent remembered that his letter was mailed the very day that he went to the hospital, and his promise of silence made it impossible to ask another to notify her of his condition. Fate's cruelty bit deep. The heartlessness of Eva's dismissal pierced his soul. Mechanically he took up a letter from his sister.
"_Dear brother Philip_," her letter began. _"We have written and written. What has become of you these last months? Haven't you received the solicitor's letters or mine, telling you of father's sudden death, and the discovery that we are almost penniless--all the fortune gone?"_
Danvers gasped, weakly, at the wealth of disaster. He had always regarded his father as an exceptionally acute man of business. And now.... The letters of which his sister Kate wrote had never reached him. The mail service was wretched, he knew; but it seemed incredible that such important letters should be lost. He turned to the other envelopes just received. Yes, there were three from the family solicitors, and one from Arthur Latimer. These from England had probably lain at Fort Benton all winter. Presently he read on:
_"However, you no doubt have received them all by this time. I write this, in haste, to ask you to meet me at Fort Benton by the middle of June, as I shall come to America in time to take the first boat leaving Bismarck. I shall have about a hundred pounds when I start. I am determined to come to you."_
With some expression of grief at their bereavement, and anticipation of seeing her brother, the letter closed.
Come up to the Whoop Up Country! His young, unsophisticated sister? She must not! He started up, thinking to send a rider to Fort Benton with a message to cable to London. But she would already have started. And how could he support her in England? How support her in any country on his small income, used as she was to every luxury? It was horrible! What to do! What to do! At last he took up Latimer's letter. At least here would be something to put heart into a fellow, he thought, hopefully. The bold handwriting seemed so like the light-hearted Southerner that a wan smile played over Philip's ghastly face. The smile faded to be replaced by agony as the sense of the words was absorbed--words leaping at him, fiendishly: