“Shall I tell her?” thought the Major woefully—“or shall I keep it secret for a little while? But if I do not speak, his parents will be sure to write and inform her. Nothing would please that woman D’Arcy-Muir more than to frighten her with a big black-bordered envelope. I think I’d better try and break it to her gently. Poor Fitz! He’s got his promotion! Well! I suppose it’s the way he would have liked best to die if he’d been given a choice. But Boy! So young! Poor fellow—poor little chap!—with mettle in him after all! Wasted life—wasted hope—wasted love—all a waste! God knows I’ve done my best to keep a stout heart—but upon my soul, life is a sad and cruel business!”
With slow and lagging footsteps he made his reluctant way to Hans Place and to Miss Letty’s always bright house, though it was scarcely so bright now as it used to be, for the hand of its gentle mistress was not so active and her supervision was not so careful and vigilant. And to the Major’s deeply afflicted mind the fact that some of the blinds were down, impressed him with an uncomfortable sense of gloom.
“Looks as if she were mourning for Boy already!” he murmured, as he rang the bell.
Margaret opened the door.
“How is Miss Letty?”
“Well, sir, she was a bit nervous last night and low in her spirits—but this morning she woke up quite bright and bonnie-like—more like her old self than she’s been for many a day. And she said to me, ‘Margaret, I think I shall hear news of Boy to-day’——”
The Major gave a sigh that was more a groan.
“She said that?”
“Ay sir, ’deed she did. But you’re lookin’ wan and weary yourself, sir,—I hope there’s no bad tidings——”
The Major interrupted her by a grave gesture.