Volume Three—Chapter Thirteen.
A Strange Wooing.
Chris Lisle heard the news without showing the slightest emotion, and as soon as he was alone he sat down and wrote as follows:—
“I pray God that you may be happy.
“Chris Lisle.”
That was all, and he dropped it into the post-box himself, turned back to meet Trevithick on his way to the Fort, nodded to him and went straight to his room, where he stood for a few moments in silence.
“Yes,” he said slowly and solemnly, “I pray God that you may be happy.”
Then, after a pause:
“But,” he cried, with terrible earnestness, “if—”
There was another pause in which he silently continued that which he might have said. Then, with a fierce light flashing from his eyes, he clenched his hands and said in a whisper more startling than the loudest words—