Horatio rapped softly on the door. "Ophelia? Art thou within?" he asked. When a few moments passed with no reply, he tried the door with his free hand. It was unlocked, and he took one step inside.

Ophelia was lying face down on the bed, face buried in the pillow in the attitude of one who wishes to cry, but not be heard doing so. Horatio closed the door but moved no closer. Quietly he said her name. She started up like a rabbit, but eased upon seeing Horatio. Her hair tumbled loose around her face, and she did not bother to brush it away. She sat up and perched on the edge of the bed, swinging her legs like a small child.

Horatio glanced down at the parcel in his hand and wordlessly held it out to her. He had taken special care to gather all the letters, tying them all together with the blue ribbon which had come undone from her hair as she had fled the room. The book was a bit scuffed from having been thrown, but was mostly fine. Ophelia stared at the floor.

Finally Horatio crossed the room and sat next to her on the bed. He rested the parcel on the bed between them. His legs were long enough to reach the floor now, or maybe it was just that Ophelia had always been small. After a long time, he turned and brushed her hair behind her ear.

"He means it not," he said. "'Tis just his mourning for his father that sets him in such a melancholy humour. Thou shalt see; 'twill all be as't was soon."

"Nay," she said shaking her head. "'Twill never be as't was." She stared at the floor. Finally, Horatio stood. He looked to her, but she did not look up, so he turned away. He walked to door, but she spoke quietly. "I want not the letters, though 'twas kind of thee to bring them. Might though also be so kind as to take them away? I cannot starnd to burn them myself, but would be ever grateful if thou wouldst."

Horatio crossed back to the bed and took the bundle from her outstretched hand. They allowed their eyes to meet only a second, then both looked away. "Goodnight, sweet lady," he said gently to her. After he left, she breathed a weighted sigh and crawled into bed, pulling the covers tightly around herself.

Horatio returned to his room. He was about to throw the letters on the fire when he noticed the one on the top of the bundle was neither made out in the Prince's handwriting, nor was it addressed to "The Lady Ophelia" as were the others. He untied the ribbon and opened the letter. Its message was short, but confirmed what the brief glance had suggested.

He threw all the letters onto the fire, as she had asked. He kept the blue ribbon.