He tore open the envelope and read the letter quickly. It ran thus:
“Dear Bernard:
“I write this with great anxiety, for I don’t know if you are living or dead. Yesterday I met Septimus Snowdon, who is the same disagreeable bully as ever, and he said, ‘Well, I have some news for you about your friend Bernard Brooks.’ I was rather surprised at this, for I didn’t suppose you would be very likely to write to him. Still I asked, ‘Have you heard from him?’ ‘No,’ he answered disdainfully. ‘I wouldn’t have any correspondence with a fellow like him. But he isn’t likely to write any more letters.’ ‘Why not?’ I asked. ‘Because he’s dead, that’s why,’ snapped Septimus, and I saw that he seemed pleased. ‘I don’t believe it,’ I returned. ‘Where do you get your information?’ ‘You’ll have to believe it,’ he said. ‘Pa received a letter from his guardian, Mr. Cornelius McCracken, of New York, saying that his death had been reported to him by the gentleman in whose company he went to Europe. I believe he wrote that he had met with an accident in Marseilles.’ Now I had a good deal of doubt about the correctness of this statement, for I knew from your own letters that you parted with Professor Puffer in London, and were not likely to be in Marseilles with him. I asked Septimus some further questions, but he seemed to have no more information.
“‘Well,’ said Septimus sneeringly, ‘are you going to put on mourning for your great friend Bernard?’ ‘I might,’ I answered, ‘if I believed him to be dead, but I don’t believe it.’
“‘You’ll never see him again,’ said Septimus positively.
“Now, Bernard, though I don’t believe the story, I am anxious, and if you are alive I hope you will write me again and tell me. I won’t believe it till I have your own authority. That sounds like a bull, doesn’t it? But I’ll go on and write as if you were still alive. You may wish to know something about the school. To the best of my belief it is far from prosperous. There are very few scholars, and those don’t look as if their parents or guardians paid much for them. Then the professor himself is looking very shabby and seedy. I don’t believe he has had a new coat for over a year. Septimus looks better. There is a pupil in the school about his size, and I really believe that Septimus is wearing his clothes. I hear that old Snowdon gave the boy a dollar and a half for his best suit. The boy was glad to sell it in order to get a little pocket money. I know how he spent a part of it. He went to the baker’s in the village and bought a supply of cakes and doughnuts, of which he stood in need, for I hear that the seminary table, never very good, is now poorer than ever.
“When are you coming back to America? I long to see you. If you do come you must be sure to come out to Doncaster and see
“Your affectionate friend,
“Nat Barclay.”
Bernard showed his letter to Mr. Cunningham.