At last, while he was sitting writing one day, there came a letter for him, with Frank Pratt for bearer. It had come to his chambers by post, he said, enclosed in another, asking him to forward it.
Frank went away as soon as he had delivered it, seeming troubled; and on Richard opening the note, he found these words:—
“I think it right to tell you what you have done, though no one knows that I have written. I did trust you, Richard Trevor; for I thought you a true, good man, who would be as faithful to my dear sister as she would have been to you. If any one had told me you would give her up directly for somebody else, I could have struck him. But I’ll tell you what you’ve done, for you ought to know it for your punishment: you’ve broken the heart of the dearest, sweetest sister that ever lived, and I hate you with all mine.
“Fin Rea.
“P.S.—Tiny’s very ill, almost seriously, and all through you.”
He had hardly read the note a second time, when Mrs Fiddison came in dolefully, to say that Mrs Jenkles wanted to speak to him; and upon that lady being admitted, it was to say, with a curtsey—
“If you please, sir, Mrs Lane says Miss Netta has been begging for you to be sent for, if you’d come.”
Richard rose to follow the messenger, who said, softly—
“You must be very quiet, sir, for she’s greatly changed.”
In the Square Called Russell.
There’s plenty of room in Russell Square for a walk, without the promenaders being seen by those without, either in the houses or on the pavement.