"Two letters this morning from Cousin Alicia, one for Auntie and one for me!"
But he faithfully finished his task, and delivered the letters to their respective owners before opening his own letter.
Mrs. Mandeville frequently breakfasted with the children when Colonel Mandeville was away and there were no visitors staying in the house. Carol found her in the schoolroom.
Breakfast had commenced. "You have had a big delivery this morning, Mr. Postman, have you not?" she said.
"Yes, Auntie, nearly everyone has had more than one letter, and here are four for you, three for Miss Markham, one for Percy, one for Edith, and one for me from Cousin Alicia. One of your letters, too, Auntie, is from Cousin Alicia, and it is quite a fat one. Mine is quite thin. May I open it, Auntie?"
"Certainly, dear, I am sure Miss Markham will allow you. We all know how little people are impatient to read their letters."
Mrs. Mandeville laid three of her letters beside her plate. The one bearing the Devonshire post-mark she held in her hand, and presently drew the contents from the envelope.
Her face grew very white, her hand trembled as she saw Miss Desmond's letter enclosed another. Her eyes, suffused with tears, fell on dear, familiar writing.
Was it a message from the grave--from that watery grave where the mortal remains of the brother still so dear to her had been cast?
Carol meanwhile was devouring his letter, oblivious of everything else. He read: