"I don't expect there will be," said Mrs. Stewart; "my correspondence is not generally very large."
"I think I shall go and see, just for something to do," said Isobel; and running into the hall, she returned presently with a letter in her hand.
"It's for you, mother," she said. "The people in the drawing-room had five, and the family in the dining-room had seven and two parcels. Aren't they lucky? There was even one for Polly, but Mrs. Jackson told her to put it in her pocket, and not to read it till she had got the beds made. I'm sure she'll take a peep at it, all the same. I wish some one would write to me. I haven't had even a picture post-card since I came."
The appearance of the letter which had just arrived seemed to cause Mrs. Stewart an unusual amount of agitation. She turned it over in her hand, glanced at Isobel, hesitated a moment, and finally took it unopened to her bedroom, that she might read it in private.
"It is my long-expected reply at last!" she said to herself. "I thought he could surely not fail to send me an answer. I wonder what he has to say. I feel as though I scarcely dare to look."
With trembling fingers she tore open the envelope, and unfolding the sheet of notepaper, read as follows:—
"The Chase, Silversands,
August 24th.
"Dear Madam,—I have delayed replying sooner to your communication, as I wished to thoroughly inform myself upon the question which you put before me. Acting on your suggestion, I have, without her knowledge, noted the general disposition, demeanour, and tastes of your daughter, and finding they are of a nature such as would not make a closer intimacy congenial to either of us, I must beg to decline your proffered meeting. As I would wish, however, that my son's child should receive a fitting education, I am about to place to her credit the sum of £200 per annum to defray her expenses at any good school that you may select from a list which will be submitted to you shortly by my solicitor. He has full instructions to conduct all further arrangements, and I should prefer any future communication from you to be only of a business character.—Believe me to remain yours truly Everard Stewart."
Mrs. Stewart flung down the letter with a cry of indignation.
Mrs. Stewart and Isobel on the moor ([page 203]).