“To George and myself it matters little,” said Julia; and her tone had a touch of sadness in it, in spite of her attempt to smile. “It would not be easy to find two people whom the world can live without at so little cost. There is something in that, Nelly; though I 'm not sure that it is all gain.”
“Well, you have your recompense, Julia,” said the other, affectionately; “for there is a little 'world' here could not exist without you.”
“Two hares, and something like a black cock—they call it a caper, here,” cried Augustus, from beneath the window. “Come down, and let us have breakfast on the terrace. By the way, I have just got a letter in Cutbill's hand. It has been a fortnight in coming, but I only glanced at the date of it.”
As they gathered around the breakfast-table they were far more eager to learn what had been done in the garden, and what progress was being made with the fish-pond, than to hear Mr. Cutbill's news; and his letter lay open till nigh the end of the meal, on the table, before any one thought of it.
“Who wants to read Cutbill?” said Augustus, indolently.
“Not I, Gusty, if he writes as he talks.”
“Do you know, I thought him very pleasant?” said L'Estrange. “He told me so much that I had never heard of, and made such acute remarks on life and people.”
“Poor dear George was so flattered by Mr. Cutbill's praise of his boiled mutton, that he took quite a liking to the man; and when he declared that some poor little wine we gave him had a flavor of 'muscat' about it, like old Moselle, I really believe he might have borrowed money of us if he had wanted, and if we had had any.”
“I wish you would read him aloud, Julia,” said Augustus.
“With all my heart,” said she, turning over the letter to see its length. “It does seem a long document, but it is a marvel of clear writing. Now for it. 'Naples, Hotel Victoria. My dear Bramleigh.' Of course you are his dear Bramleigh? Lucky, after all, that it's not dear Gusty.”