The lady looked disappointed. "You have a letter," she said at length, glancing at the one her husband held in his hand.
"Yes, merely an answer from Mr. Mansfield, I expect," he said, opening it as he spoke. "O, another long epistle!" he exclaimed, glancing down the closely-written paper.
He sat down to read it in a comfortable, leisurely manner. But before he had got over many lines, he started to his feet.
"Goodness, Maria!" he exclaimed. And then, recollecting himself, he dropped into his seat.
"What is it? What is the matter?" asked the lady, rousing herself to look at her husband. The expression of his countenance startled her, and she came around to his side. "What is it, Edgar?" she said. "Tell me, do tell me what has happened."
"Wait a minute, my dear, until I have finished, and then I will tell you all—everything," he added.
"Everything!" she repeated. "About what?"
"About the darling child—our long-lost Milly."
"Is she found, then? Have you news of her? I thought you said the letter was from your cousin, Mr. Mansfield."
"So it is, my dear; and I doubt not he has found our Milly, or at least a little girl that he thinks—he says fears—must be our child."