For a while there was silence as each perused his correspondence. Presently an exclamation of surprise burst from Sir Matthew's lips.
"Why, here's a letter from Mary! I thought she was in America!"
"Where does she write from, father?" inquired Matthew.
"Linwell—the very spot where Gilbert's wife and family have taken up their abode. That's very strange!" muttered the old man.
"'I am hoping to come and see you as soon as we are settled in our new home,'" he went on, reading the letter aloud.
"Well, I'm in no hurry," said he, ungraciously. "I had quite enough of Mrs. Wilfrid's airs and graces years ago."
"Ah well, dad, let bygones be bygones," said peace-loving Matthew; "remember she has passed through much sorrow since those days."
"Poor Wilfrid!" murmured the baronet. "Who would have thought, to look at him, that he would have been cut off in the prime of his manhood!"
Again a silence fell upon them both; this time it was broken by Matthew.
"I should like to read those two letters—Alicia Beaumont's and Hugh's—once again, if you've not destroyed them."