"Too late," remarked Fritz.
"Herbert Philipson had arrived that same morning; but, as Fritz observes, he was just an hour too late. He had acquired a fortune, but his long-cherished hopes of happiness were completely blasted."
"Why did he stay away five years without writing?" inquired Mrs. Wolston.
"He had written several times, but at that time no regular post had been established, and his letters had never reached their destination."
"When did he find out that Cecilia was married?"
"Well, some people think it more humane to kill a man by inches rather than by a single blow of the axe. Not so with Herbert's friends; the first news that greeted him on landing were, that his ever-remembered Cecilia was probably at that moment before the altar pledging her vows to another."
"I should rather have had a chimney-pot tumble on my head," remarked Willis.
"Herbert was a man in every sense of the word—the mode of his departure proves that. On hearing this painful intelligence, he simply covered his face with his hands, and, after a moment's thought, resolved to see his lost bride at least once more."
"Poor Herbert!" sighed Mary.
"Foster was thunderstruck when the stranger declared himself to be the son of his old friend; and, after cordially bidding him welcome, sorrowfully asked him what he meant to do. 'I should wish to see Mrs. Lindsey in presence of her husband,' he replied, 'providing you have no objections to introduce me to the company.'"