“Indeed! let us see;” and he drew forth the letter, and broke the envelope. “Right enough, Tom,—it is Trafford.”
He ran his eyes rapidly over the first lines, turned to the next side, and then to the end of the letter, and then once more began at the beginning.
“This is his third attempt, he says, to reach me, having written twice without any acknowledgment; hence he has taken the liberty—and a very great liberty too—to address the present to the care of your sister. His brother died in March last, and the younger brother has now shown symptoms of the same malady, and has been sent out to Madeira. 'I could not,' he writes,—'I could not refuse to come out here with him, however eager I was to go to Ireland. You can well believe,'”—here the old man slurred over the words, and murmured inaudibly for some seconds. “I see,” added he at last, “he has gone back to his old regiment, with good hopes of the majority. 'Hinks is sick of the service, and quite willing to leave. Harvey, however, stands above me, and deems it a cruel thing to be passed over. I must have your advice about this, as well as about—'” Here again he dropped his voice and mumbled unintelligibly. At length he read on: “'What is Tom doing? What a shame it would be if a fellow with such abilities should not make his way!'”
“A crying shame,” burst in Tom, “but I neither see the abilities nor the way; would he kindly indicate how to find either or both?”
“'My mother suggested,'” read on Sir Brook, “'two or three things which my father could readily obtain, but you know the price of the promotion; you know what I would have to—'” Here, once more, the old man stopped abruptly.
“Pray go on, sir,” cried Tom, eagerly; “this interests me much, and as it touches myself I have half a claim to hear it.”
Sir Brook gave no heed to the request, but read on in silence and to himself. Turning to the last page, he said: “'I may then hope to be in England by the end of the month. I shall not go down to Holt, but straight to Dublin. My leave will expire on the 28th, and this will give me a good excuse for not going home. I am sure you will agree with me that I am doing the right thing.
“'If I am fortunate enough to meet you in Dublin, I can ask your advice on many things which press for solution; but if you should have left Ireland and gone heaven knows where, what is to become of me?'”
“Got into debt again, evidently,” said Tom, as he puffed his cigar.
“Nothing of the kind. I know thoroughly what he alludes to, though I am not at liberty to speak of it. He wishes me to leave our address with Colonel Cave at the barracks, and that if we should have left Ireland already, he 'll try and manage a month's leave, and pay us a visit.”