It was two or three mornings after the departure of Mr. Carlyle that Mr. Dill appeared before Miss Carlyle, bearing a letter. She was busy regarding the effect of some new muslin curtains, just put up, and did not pay attention to him.
“Will you please take the letter, Miss Cornelia? The postman left it in the office with ours. It is from Mr. Archibald.”
“Why, what has he got to write to me about?” retorted Miss Corny. “Does he say when he is coming home?”
“You had better see, Miss Cornelia. Mine does not.”
“CASTLE MARLING, May 1st.
“MY DEAR CORNELIA—I was married this morning to Lady Isabel Vane, and hasten briefly to acquaint you with the fact. I will write you more fully to-morrow or the next day, and explain all things.
“Your ever affectionate brother,
“ARCHIBALD CARLYLE.”
“It is a hoax,” was the first gutteral sound that escaped from Miss Carlyle’s throat when speech came to her.
Mr. Dill only stood like a stone image.