charm. Chased by Ann back into the studio, the play-mates fell on the sofa, worn out and happy; but, in the momentary calm, a little cousin on either side of him, the poor young man felt the cruel return of his own miseries and his own crisis.
"Misther Fairfax," said the Irish woman, "did the childhren give ye the letter what come to-day? I thawt Miss Bella'd not mind it, what wid funnerals and tearin' like a mad thing over the house!" (Ann's reproof was for Fairfax.) "Yez'll be the using up of little Gardiner, sir, the both of ye. The letther's forbye the clock. I putt it there m'self."
Fairfax, to whom no news could be but welcome, limped over to the mantel, where, by the clock, he perceived a letter addressed to him on big paper in a small, distinguished hand. He tore it open, Ann lit the gas, and he read—
Dear Mr. Fairfax,
"I have not answered your letter because I was so unfortunate as to have lost your address. Learning last night that you are a nephew of Mr. Carew, and sure of a response if I send this to his care, I write to ask that you will come in to see me to-day at three o'clock."Yours sincerely,
"Gunner Cedersholm."
Fairfax gave an exclamation that was almost a cry, and looked at the clock. It was past four!
"When did this letter come?" His nerves were on end, his cheeks pale.
Bella sat forward on the sofa. "Why, Mother gave it me to give to you when you should come to-day, Cousin Antony."
In the strain to his patience, Fairfax was sharp. He bit his lip, snatched up his coat and hat.
"You should have given it me at once." His blue eyes flashed. "You don't know what you may have done. This may ruin my career! I've missed my appointment with Cedersholm. It's too late now."
He couldn't trust himself further, and, before Bella could regain countenance, he was gone.