"Aye, sir!" answered the Sergeant, staring.
"Anyway, 'twill be one of them, Zeb—to-morrow afternoon. To be sure I rather fancy the orange-tawney, and yet the blue and silver—hum!"
Here the perplexed Major crossed to the mullioned window and standing there drew a letter from his pocket and unfolding it with reverent fingers read these words:
"DEAR AND MOST CRUEL MAJOR JOHN,
To-morrow is to be an occasion, therefore to-morrow I do invite you to come at four of the clock, or as soon after as you will, to look upon the sad, pale and woeful face of
deeply wronged,
much abused,
cruelly slandered,
ELIZABETH.
To Major ill-thinking, vile-imagining, basely-suspecting d'Arcy—these."