“I suppose,” resumed Grog, “it was a pleasure you had reserved for yourself to inform her Ladyship of her step in rank, but I thought she'd just like to hear the news as well from her father.”
Beecher made no answer, but sat buried in thought; at last he said: “Mr. Twining, whom I met accidentally last night, told me of my brother's death, and told me, besides, that it had occurred fully eight weeks ago.”
“So long as that!” said Davis, dryly.
“Yes, so long as that,” said Beecher, fixing his eyes steadfastly on the other. “He tells me, too, that Lady Lackington wrote twice, or even thrice, to urge me to come on to Italy; that my arrival was looked for hourly. Many other letters were also sent after me, but not one reached my hand. Strange, very strange!”
“I suppose you have them all there now,” said Grog, defiantly, as he pointed to the mass of letters on the dressing-table.
“No, these are all of recent dates, and refer, besides, to others which I have never got.”
“What has become of the others, then?” asked Grog, resolutely.
“That's the very point I cannot decide, and it is the very question I was about to ask of you.”
“What do you mean?” said Grog, calmly.
“What I mean is this,” said Beecher, “that I am curious to learn how long it is since you knew of my brother's death?”