"Now we're going to get something more interesting."
"'Jack is with us for a fortnight, and he and Polly went this morning to the Public Library, and heard a Group of Gentlemen's very serious opinions on the condition of Affairs at the present moment. What a succession of triumphs attends the Corsican, wicked Elf! Poor old England stands alone; but how long—?'"
"'General Moore, who, as you doubtless are aware, is now Sir John Moore, and has been these two years past, continues to Befriend Jack, when opportunity offers. Jack is sorely disappointed at not being of the number sent on this Expedition to Sicily. He hopes he may yet be ordered thither, if more troops are wanted. I don't for my part know precisely what they may be doing there; but doubtless the Government has good reasons for all that's done. How much you in your long banishment may hear of Public News we have no means of guessing, my dear Sir, but most heartily do I wish it were over, and the Blessings of an assured Peace once more restored to Europe. Alas, while that persistent Disturber of Peace continues to flourish, what can be looked for but persistent War? 'Tis said that Mr. William Wilberforce declares that Austerlitz was the death-blow to Mr. Pitt.'"
"'Polly desires me to send her due Remembrances to Captain Ivor, and her hopes that he continues well in health. She writ him awhile since a long letter, tho' 'tis disheartening work, none knowing if ever the letters sent do arrive. Polly is extremely well, and has her Roses in full bloom, and is in vastly good spirits, albeit she was greatly disappointed at the failure of the Peace negotiations, on which Mr. Fox built much, but without cause. 'Tis said that she grows a more elegant young woman each year; and for my part I know not if this be not the truth. Molly is fast becoming a grown-up young woman; and there is in her face—altho' she is not handsome—an expression of such fine Moral Sensibility as cannot but gratify the Beholder.'"
Roy made a slight pause when Polly's name came up, as if wondering whether Denham would say anything; but the break was not taken advantage of, and his still face said nothing. So Roy went on to the end, gabbling rather hurriedly through Molly's affectionate and prim little composition to himself, which somehow always gave him a sense of stricture in the throat.
"That's all. Nothing more."
"There may be scores of letters buried in official bureaux," suggested Mrs. Baron. "From—Polly and all of them."
Denham was looking steadily down, with an expression which to her, as to Roy, was inscrutable. No response came to the suggestion. He merely said, after a pause:
"I think that letter should be destroyed, Colonel. Unsafe to keep."
Colonel Baron made a sound of assent. Home subjects then were dropped, and Denham was plied with questions as to his manner of life at Valenciennes. He had a good deal to tell, and his account of the Commandant there contrasted favourably with their experiences of General Wirion.
The next day was by common consent granted to Roy as a whole holiday. His studies had been carried on partly under the young clergyman, Mr. Kinsland, partly under his father, during the last eighteen months; but a free day seemed only fair, in honour of Denham's return. The boy was in wild spirits, full of schemes for hunting up old friends in Denham's company. Denham did not appear at all till after breakfast, just in time to attend appel; and Roy, having been withheld from disturbing him, was off on some business of his own. When, after appel, he rushed in, it was to find Denham in the Colonel's chair, with a book open which he was not reading, and with the look of a man who would not be easily dislodged. His face told its own tale; and Roy's look became suddenly blank.
"I'm afraid there's no help for it, Roy. You must give me a day's grace. I've done a good deal of walking, you see;"—which was a mild statement of the case.