Her mind was full of this new and somewhat optimistic scheme when she came into the dining-room, where Nance was already reading her morning letters. With a slightly absorbed manner she kissed her sister and, passing round the breakfast-table, picked up her own correspondence.
In a perfunctory way she turned the envelopes over until one arrested her attention, as being intimately connected with her thoughts.
It was a letter from Deerehurst, and she tore it open hastily, skimming the contents with an eager glance.
"Dear little Lady," it began,
"Yesterday the fates who watch over my affairs were unkind. The afternoon was frankly a failure. But I shall claim recompense; I shall look in upon you in your box at the Apollo at nine to-night. A vexatious business matter calls me out of town to-day, or I should strive to see you earlier. But at nine make me welcome.
"Always devotedly,
"Deerehurst."
She finished reading the note, then laid it down and hurriedly picked up another letter. How annoying it was! How malicious of Chance!
The second letter proved to be from Lady Frances Hope; it was from Brittany, and reproached her extravagantly for not having written since they parted at Tuffnell. Imploring for news of her movements, it informed her that the writer, with Mrs. Bathurst and Valentine Serracauld, was on her way back to London. She followed the lines mechanically, but her mind was elsewhere. At last she threw the letter down.
"Nance!" she said suddenly.