In the meantime, Major Clifton sat in his study, awaiting an answer to a note he had written to Mrs. Georgia, apprising her of the recent events, and requesting her to come at once to the house. He had not to wait long; his messenger returned, and informed him that he had met the lady on her way to L——, to take the stage coach to Richmond. The man, at the same time, gave the intelligence that Mr. Kavanagh waited in the hall, to know if he could be of any service to Major Clifton on the present occasion.
“Show him in,” said Major Clifton.
The man went out and soon returned, accompanied by Carl, whose face expressed the most profound and sincere sympathy.
“Set a chair for Mr. Kavanagh, and retire, James.”
The man obeyed, Carl seated himself, and in person repeated his condolences, and his tenders of service.
In reply, Major Clifton took from his pocket the forged note and laid it before him, saying, coldly—
“There is the note your sister wrote to you, and sent by mistake to Mrs. Georgia Clifton. Read it.”
Carl took it up, wondering what might be the use of reading it now, but as he glanced over its contents, his eyes grew wide with astonishment, and when he had finished it, he laid it down again, exclaiming—
“I am confounded!”
“I should think so, sir!” coldly remarked Major Clifton.