"Yes, there is one, but not the one I expected." And as he spoke, he took the letter from his pocket, and threw himself into a chair.
"Who is this from?" asked the lady, taking up the letter, and looking at the address on the outside.
It was in a strange handwriting, and she felt curious as to its contents. "Who can this be from?" she repeated.
"I don't know, and don't care, much," returned her husband, testily. "I felt so sure of hearing from one of the passengers that sailed in the vessel with our darling, and, as that has not come, I don't care for anything else."
He took the letter from his wife's hand, however, as he spoke, and turned it over leisurely. "I must have seen this handwriting before, somewhere," he said; "it seems strangely familiar to me." And with a little more interest, he proceeded to break the seal.
"Who is it from?" asked the lady impatiently, when he was about half through the letter.
"Well, this is strange!" remarked the major, without noticing his wife's question. "I never expected to hear from him again."
"Who is your correspondent?" asked the lady again.
"A cousin, my dear," replied her husband, going on with his perusal of the letter.
When he had finished, he laid it upon the table near his wife's elbow. "You will not understand it, my dear, without some explanation," he said, "for you have never heard me speak of Mr. Mansfield."