"I really don't think there is any more news to tell you, except that good old Mrs. Trubbles is dead--apoplexy--and her dear Harry is now on the look-out for another spouse with political influence--I wish it was 'poetical influence,' and we might manage to marry him to Miss Pelch.
"Mr. Dolser and 'The Pepper Box' have both gone under, never to rise again I hope. Some dreadful libel on a high personage appeared, at which the H.P. took umbrage, and the editor is now expiating his offence in prison. I can't say I'm very sorry, as when he is released Mr. Dolser will no doubt leave other people's affairs alone. Such men as he are the curse of the present age, and should all be sunk in the Atlantic for at least half an hour--after that I think we'd have no more trouble with them.
"And now, my dear cousin, I must close this long letter, but first, in confidence, let me hint to you that my wife is expecting an interesting event to take place shortly, which will once more render the nursery a necessity. Poor Alizon has borne up bravely since the death of Sammy, but I know she longs for a child of her own to fill the vacant place in her heart. I am no longer afraid of having a rival in my child, as my wife loves and trusts me now, and my lot is as perfectly happy a one as any mortal can hope for.
"So now goodbye, my dear Eustace. I hope we will soon see you back again at the Hall, where there is always a place for you. My wife sends her kindest regards to you, and so do I, thus closing this letter, and remaining
"Your affectionate Cousin,
"Guy Errington."
When Eustace finished reading the letter he let it fall on the ground, and laughed bitterly.
"Kindest regards," he said sadly, "and I gave her love."
The sun was sinking swiftly behind the dark hills, and Gartney, with his hand supporting his chin, sat watching it, thinking of the days that were no more.
So sad, so melancholy he felt, as he thought of the past, of the woman he loved so fondly, whom he had restored to the arms of her husband at the cost of his own happiness. Surely, if he had been selfish, vain and egotistical all his life, he had expiated these sins by his voluntary sacrifice of self--a sacrifice that had banished all delight from his heart.