Miss Silver took it, looked at it with one of her curious little smiles, thought a moment, turned, and carried it straight to my lady. My lady examined it with angry eyes.
"From Miss Hunsden," she said, contemptuously. "She repents her hasty decision, no doubt, and sends to tell him so. Bold, designing creature! Find Sir Everard's valet, Miss Silver, and give it to him."
Sir Everard was in his dressing-room, and his pale face flushed deep red as he received the note. He tore it open and literally devoured the contents.
DEAR SIR EVERARD,—Please, please, please forgive me! Oh, I am so sorry I laughed and made you angry! But indeed I thought you only meant it as a joke. Two days is such a little while to be acquainted before proposing, you know. Won't you come to see us again? Papa has asked for you several times. Pray pardon me. You would if you knew how penitent I am.
Yours remorsefully,
HARRIE HUNSDEN.
Hunsden Hall, Nov. 15th, 18—.
He read the piteous, childish little letter over and over again until his face glowed. Hope planted her shining foot once more on the baronet's heart.
"I will go at once," he said, hiding the little note very near his heart. "Common courtesy requires me to say farewell before I start for Constantinople. And the captain likes me, and his influence is all-powerful with her, and who knows—"
He did not finish the mental sentence. He rapidly completed his toilet, ordered his horse, and set off hot foot.
Of course, all the short cuts came in requisition. The path through Brithlow Wood was the path he took, going at full gallop. Lost in a deliciously hopeful reverie, he was half-way through, when a hollow groan from the wayside smote his ear.