"Yours sincerely,
"Nancy Brander."
Mallender turned over the letter, and looked at the date, it was a month old. He read it through once more, with compressed lips, a knitted brow, and somewhat embittered memories.
What a meddling fool he was! always doing the wrong thing. He had carried out his father's wishes, and come to most unholy grief. He had tried to help a wretched girl, and had the worst construction put upon his action.
And Fred believed these lies! As for that cad Wylie, he would like to wring his neck. After quite a long interval, he picked up and opened letter Number 2, which was written in a weak uncertain hand, and glanced at the signature, "Ever most gratefully yours, Ada Sim."
By Jove, here was a coincidence! What had she got to say for herself? A slip of paper fell out,—a cheque, a cheque for one hundred pounds, "payable to Captain Geoffrey Mallender"; a sum as unexpected as it was welcome. This would take him nicely down country, and pay his passage to England!
"Craig Birnie,
"Inverness-shire, N.B.
"Dear Captain Mallender,
"I have been very ill—or would have written to you long before. As it is, this is my first attempt at writing letters for two months. I have great pleasure in enclosing a cheque for £100, the money you so generously lent me.
"You may wonder how I came by it? I do think my ill-luck has turned at last. I travelled home with a man who knew my bachelor Uncle—Mr. Andrew Campbell—my mother's brother,—he and my father had a quarrel, and never forgave one another—he was very rich, father very poor and proud, and so it was never made up! My kind fellow-passenger put in a good word for me, with the result that I had an interview with Uncle Andrew in London, and after spending two days together, he offered to adopt me as his daughter, and give me a home. Immediately after this unexpected good fortune, and just as I had arrived here, I had typhoid fever badly, and have been at death's door, but am now out of danger, and sitting up.