“Do go, Sarah.”
Mrs. Middleton awaited the return of Sarah with nervous impatience. Perhaps the captain had thrown her over after all, and, loving him as she did, this would have torn the heart of the intriguing woman, who, cold and selfish as she was so far as others were concerned, really loved the handsome captain.
Sarah speedily reappeared with the letter.
Here it is, mum,” she said. “I have taken the best care of it.”
Mrs. Middleton tore it open with nervous haste. This is the way it ran:
“My Dear Jane: I am about to set out for India—not willingly, but my regiment is ordered there, and I must obey or quit the service. This, as you well know, I cannot do; for, apart from my official pay, I have but a paltry two hundred pounds a year, and that is barely enough to pay my tailor’s bill. I am sorry to go away in your absence. If I were only sure you would bring home good news, I could afford to sell my commission and wait. But it is so uncertain that I cannot take the risk.
“I need not say, my dear Jane, how anxious I am to have all the impediments to our union removed. I am compelled to be mercenary. It is, alas! necessary for me, as a younger son, to marry a woman with money. I shall
be happy indeed if interest and love go hand in hand, as they will if your absolute claim to your late husband’s estate is proved beyond a doubt. I append my India address, and shall anxiously expect a communication from you on your return. If you have been successful, I will arrange to return at once, and our union can be solemnized without delay. Once more, farewell.
“Your devoted
“Gregory Lovell.”
Mrs. Middleton, after reading this letter, breathed a sigh of relief. He was still hers, and she had only to call him back. There would be a vexatious delay, but that must be submitted to. She had feared to lose him, and this apprehension, at least, might be laid aside.