Is it strange that, after the peculiar manner of their parting, Jerry's first and longest letter was not to his mother, but to Bella Chevenix?
'Poor Bella!' said he, in a broken voice, almost to himself, as he closed the epistle.
'You did not part on bad terms?' asked Dalton.
'No, thank God! What made you think so?'
'Something in your tone.'
'I am writing to her, though she gave me no hope.'
'No hope—you—why?'
'She quite misunderstands the real love I bear her, and evidently suspects that I wish to secure her hand, not because I am the squire of Wilmothurst, but because she is in reality the heiress of it.'
'She—what riddle is this?' asked Dalton, taking the cigar from his lips, and eyeing his friend.
'Did I not make you understand all that before, old fellow?'