She could see that Roger was already dazzled and fascinated, and it would be a most desirable alliance. Roger was plain, silent, and worthy; Baby was a charming chatterbox, and a nice, good, clever girl; some day, she would and should be the châtelaine of this dear old house, and take charge of the precious family treasures, when their present owner had passed away. There was a loud hum of talking, and laughing, Major Horne and Roger De Wolfe were discussing their day's sport, Mr. Mayne and Mrs. De Wolfe were still wrangling about their last rubber, when Sutton entered, salver in hand.
"Your letters have just come, sir," he said, approaching Mr. Mayne. "Are there any orders for Graham?"
The old gentleman took up his letters, glanced at them indifferently, and answered, "No, not to-day," turning to Mrs. De Wolfe he added:
"Only a bill from my saddler, and a letter from Julia Torquilstone. I wonder what the deuce she is writing about?" he added peevishly—"sure to want something," and he laid it unopened by his plate. "I was hoping to hear from my boy. I know the mail came in two days ago."
Nancy too had hoped for a letter; but her hopes had been doomed to disappointment.
As soon as Mr. Mayne had disposed of Mrs. De Wolfe's argument, and a second cup of tea, he opened the neglected epistle from his sister-in-law,—and read it with a frowning face.
"Here's bad news!" he exclaimed, in a tone which silenced every other voice. "Julia has had a line from the War Office, to say that Derek has been dangerously wounded in some action with the hill tribes. Oh, these little wars, and what they cost us!"
"Are there any particulars?" inquired Mrs. De Wolfe.
"There you are!" handing her an official telegram. "I suppose," and his voice was husky, "he will leave his bones out there, like his father."
When Mrs. De Wolfe had glanced over the slip of paper, she was not a little surprised, to see Nancy rise from her place, and stretch out a trembling hand.