“Don't you believe me?” said Falcon sadly. “Why should I deceive you? The first time I came down to tell you all this, I did not KNOW who Mrs. Staines was. I suspected; but no more. The second time I saw you in the church, and then I knew; and followed you to try and tell you all this; and you were not at home to me.”
“Forgive me,” said Rosa carelessly: then earnestly, “The letter! when can I see it?”
“I will send, or bring it.”
“Bring it! I am in agony till I see it. Oh, my darling! my darling! It can't be true. It was not my Christie. He lies in the depths of the ocean. Lord Tadcaster was in the ship, and he says so; everybody says so.”
“And I say he sleeps in hallowed ground, and these hands laid him there.”
Rosa lifted her hands to heaven, and cried piteously, “I don't know what to think. You would not willingly deceive me. But how can this be? Oh, Uncle Philip, why are you away from me? Sir, you say he gave you a letter?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, why, why did you not bring it?”
“Because he told me the contents; and I thought he prized my poor efforts too highly. It did not occur to me you would doubt my word.”
“Oh, no: no more I do: but I fear it was not my Christie.”