“I have seen Mr Farrell twice this last week, but have not succeeded in making him mention your names,” she wrote in her last letter. “I talk continuously of you—in what vein you can imagine!—and read extracts from your letters; and he listens intently, but makes no remarks. I can see him mentally pounce on anything which gives him fresh insight into your life here, as if he were still interested in the study of your characters; but the moment I stop speaking he turns the conversation to impersonal topics. Only one thing he has done which I thought really thoughtful. Ruth’s camera was found lying about, and he gave instructions that it was to be taken down to the photographers the same day, and copies printed from all the films, so that your mother might receive them as soon as possible. I believe they were sent up yesterday, so that you may expect them soon, and perhaps a letter at the same time. Mr Druce is kind and amiable, and very much the man in possession. I don’t take to him, but my husband believes he will make a good squire.”
“Will,” not “would”! This from Mrs Thornton was conclusive indeed! Ruth dropped a salt tear on the back of the sheet as she folded it up. It was good news to hear of the trouble Uncle Bernard had taken on her behalf. Surely, surely he would not forward the photographs without enclosing some sort of an answer to her many notes!
For the next few days Ruth’s heart leapt every time the postman’s knock sounded at the door; but, when the longed-for packet arrived, the words, “Photographs only,” written on the back, killed her hopes at a glance. The pictures themselves were fairly successful, and gave a happy half-hour to the invalid, who bent lovingly over each familiar scene.
“It takes me back to my youth to see the dear old rooms again! How successful you are with interiors, Ruth; but you have no photograph of the library, one of my favourite haunts. How did you come to leave that out?”
“I didn’t. I took it twice over. I’m sorry, dear, but I expect they were failures,” said Ruth wearily.
She could not guess that on these missing pictures hung the fate of many lives.