“Your ever-loving
“GERALD.”
This was the letter that came to Mrs. Grinstead, and one with similar information went to Dolores Mohun at her college at Cambridge. Dolores, who had found Mysie much more sympathetic than Gillian, could not but write the intelligence to her, and Mysie was so much struck with the beauty of the much-injured brother and sister devoting themselves to their mother, that she could not help telling the family party at breakfast.
“That’s right,” said Lord Rotherwood. “The mother can clear up the doubt if any one can. Is there nothing about it?”
“No,” replied Mysie; “I should think the poor woman was too ill to be asked.”
“They must not let her slip through their fingers without telling,” added Ivinghoe.
“I have a mind to run over to Rocca Marina and see what more they have heard there,” said Lord Rotherwood. “I suppose your letter is from one of the girls there?”
“Oh no, it is from Dolores.”
“Dolores! She is at Cambridge. Then this news must have been round by Clipstone! They must have known it for days past at Rocca!” exclaimed Lord Rotherwood.
“No,” said Mysie, “this came direct to Dolores from Gerald Underwood himself.—Oh, didn’t you know? I forgot, nobody was to know till Uncle Maurice gave his consent.”