She turned these relics over, she kissed the handwriting so long buried, and tears of tender amazement rose in her eyes.
"Oh Archie, my darling," she said. "You lucky boy!"
"Aren't I?" said Archie. "But does Martin never write to you?"
"No, dear; I suppose he cannot."
"And why is he so particularly here?" demanded Archie.
She paused a moment.
"He died here," she said.
"In this house?" asked he. "Which room?"
"Blessington's."
Archie gave a great sigh.