"Why did you not tell me of it before, father?" the girl said, reproachfully.
"Well, my dear, your news is so infinitely more important, that I own I forgot all about the letter. Besides, as this is the fourth that you have had since you have been here, it is not of such extreme importance."
But Mary was reading the letter and paid no attention to what her father was saying. Presently she gave a sudden exclamation.
"What is it, my dear; has he changed his mind and married a Kaffir woman? If so, we need not trouble any more about the affair."
"No, papa; it is serious—quite serious."
"Well, my dear, that would be serious; at least I should have thought you would consider it so."
"No, father; but really this is extraordinary. What do you think he says?"
"It is of no use my thinking about it, Mary," Mr. Armstrong said, resignedly, "especially as I suppose you are going to tell me. I have made one suggestion, and it seems that it is incorrect."
"This is what he says, father: 'You know that I told you a trooper in my company recognised me. I fancied I knew the man's face, but could not recall where I had seen it. The other day it suddenly flashed upon me; he is the son of a little farmer upon my cousin's estate, a man by the name of Forester. I often saw him when he was a young fellow, for I was fond of fishing, and I can remember him as a boy who was generally fishing down in the mill-stream. I fancy he rather went to grief afterwards, and have some idea he was mixed up in a poaching business in the Carne woods. So I think he must have left the country about that time. Curious, isn't it, his running against me here? However, it cannot be helped. I suppose it will all come out, sooner or later, for he has been in the guardroom several times for drunkenness, and one of these times he will be sure to blurt it out.'"
"Isn't that extraordinary, father?"