“I’ve given you the best I’ve got, and good advice too, with a foundation to go upon. Your heiress is ready to your hand.”
“What do you mean?” said Jack.
Leonard was about to reply, when the housekeeper entered and brought him a card. He looked at it; it bore Lady Isabel Earlsley’s name, and on the back was written:
“To inquire whether Mr. Newcombe was hurt last night?”
Leonard pitched it across the table, as an answer to Jack’s question.
Jack read the card and flushed hotly, then threw it down again.
Leonard took up a piece of paper, and rapidly wrote:
“Mr. Newcombe’s compliments, and he was not in any way injured by last night’s accident, which he deeply regrets as having caused Lady Earlsley so much trouble,” and gave it to the housekeeper.
“What have you written?” asked Jack sulkily.
“What you are too much of a bear to write,” said Leonard, with a smile—“an answer and an apology. Jack, you are a favorite of fortune. Half the men in London would give the forefinger of their right hand to get such a message from Lady Bell. I know her——”