Page:The Toll of the Bush.pdf/92

don’t; and he’s had a mortgage on dad since the year one.’

‘Major Milward’s a darling,’ said Winnie, surrendering at once.

‘So’s Eve,’ said Mabel; ‘only she’s so beastly beautiful.’ The adjective belonged, properly speaking, to the days before Mabel was converted.

Mr. Fletcher, when he left the breakfast-room, went into his private sanctum and closed the door. His writing-table stood near the window, and he sat down before it and looked out across the tussocks to the shining wet sands. His face suggested that the alliteration now being uttered in the other room might, had he heard it, have roused a responsive chord in his bosom; for it was the beauty of Major Milward’s daughter which occupied his thoughts at that moment. There was no truth in what he had just heard; it was the cruel spite in which even decent women sometimes indulge. Was it true about Hernshaw? His lips closed, and he crushed the letters he still carried unconsciously in his hand. His attention thus directed to what he held, he lifted first the English letter, opened it, and glanced at the signature. Then with a shock his wandering thoughts were arrested and he read it through. He read it several times, sitting motionless all the while. Then, as though seeking distraction, he turned to the letter still unopened, and here also there appeared to be matter of unusual interest, for a single perusal did not suffice him. By and by his eye sought the window again, and for many minutes he sat looking straight in front of him. A barefooted man was pushing a boat down into the tide: this was Mallow going fishing. A boy, leading a horse, went by