“They can obtain that better, perhaps, at Haymore.”
“Ay?”
“Perhaps, O’Melaghlin, you would like to see your daughter’s last letter to my wife,” kindly suggested Stuart.
“Ay, that I would, if Mrs. Stuart has no objections, and it is very kind of you to offer to show it to me, and I thank you, Wolfscliff,” heartily responded the visitor.
And before he had finished speaking Palma had darted away in search of her letter box. She soon returned with it, sat down, placed it on her lap, opened it and took out a bundle of letters, from which she selected one to hand it to the visitor.
He quickly snatched it, and with an almost greedy look, so eager was the father to read the words of his unknown daughter.
He “devoured” the contents of that letter, though none of its words could speak of him, who was equally unknown to his daughter, and although they only told of household and neighborhood news, and of their changed plans in regard to the scene of their studies and the person of their tutor.
When he had dwelt on the letter as long as possible he returned it to its owner with manifest reluctance and cast covetous glances at the pile of letters from which it had been drawn.
“Would you like to read all your daughter’s letters? You can, of course, if you wish it, sir,” said Palma kindly.
“Oh, madam, if you would be so good as to let me do so,” gratefully replied the father.