There was nothing objectionable in this letter,—excepting always the "Dear Emily,"—nothing which it was not imperative on Colonel Osborne to communicate to the person to whom it was addressed. Trevelyan must now go up-stairs and tell the contents of the letter to his wife. But he felt that he had created for himself a terrible trouble. He must tell his wife what was in the letter, but the very telling of it would be a renewing of the soreness of his wound. And then what was to be done in reference to the threatened visit for the Sunday morning? Trevelyan knew very well that were his wife denied at that hour, Colonel Osborne would understand the whole matter. He had doubtless in his anger intended that Colonel Osborne should understand the whole matter; but he was calmer now than he had been then, and almost wished that the command given by him had not been so definite and imperious. He remained with his arm on the mantel-piece, thinking of it, for some ten minutes, and then went up into the drawing-room. "Emily," he said, walking up to the table at which she was sitting, "you had better read that letter."
"I would so much rather not," she replied haughtily.
"Then Nora can read it. It concerns you both equally."
Nora, with hesitating hand, took the letter and read it. "They are not to come after all," said she, "till next February."
"And why not?" asked Mrs. Trevelyan.
"Something about the session. I don't quite understand."
"Lord Bowles is to come from Canada," said Louis, "and they think he would prefer being here in the winter. I dare say he would."
"But what has that to do with papa?"
"I suppose they must both be here together," said Nora.
"I call that very hard indeed," said Mrs. Trevelyan.