“Well, minister,” said the bailiff, as soon as they were both seated at the writing-table near the window, “it has come at last. I have got a dispatch from the squire, announcing his immediate arrival with his bride and his brother-in-law, though not with the expected party of friends.”
The curate started, and then passed his hand across his forehead, as if to clear away a cloud of perplexity. Had not Longman told him that the squire and his lady had arrived the night before? And he could not have made a mistake, because he came with them, and left them at the Hall. And now the bailiff tells him that he has received a dispatch, announcing the immediate arrival of the squire and his party. What did all this mean? At length an explanation suggested itself, and he spoke upon it.
“Has not that dispatch been delayed? Should it not have come yesterday?” he inquired.
“Oh, no, sir! It was dated this morning, and came an hour ago!” exclaimed the bailiff.
“Have you got it about you? Would you mind letting me see it?”
“Here it is, sir.”
The bailiff drew the paper from his vest pocket and put it into the hands of the minister.
Mr. Campbell opened it and read:
“Langham’s Hotel, London,
“December 15, 18—.