"Yes," he said, "I should think so; I do not know any one else who is likely to be in Alexandria!"
He opened the letter, and glanced hastily at its contents. Then he took up the envelope, and looked at it again; then he turned once more to the first page of the letter and began to read it through.
Evelyn and I sat watching him. I tried to go on with my breakfast, but I felt as if the food would choke me, for Sir William looked more and more impatient and annoyed as he went on reading.
When he had finished, he tossed the letter on the table, saying angrily, "He is a good-for-nothing rascal!"
I looked up quickly, and Evelyn asked in a trembling voice:
"Who is, papa—not Mr. Stanley?"
"No, not Mr. Stanley," he said; "at least he may be; I do not know that he is; but that cousin of yours, Donald Trafford—the letter is from him. An idle good-for-nothing rascal, that is what he is! And I shall tell his father so when I see him!"
"Let me have the letter, papa," said Evelyn. She was as white as a sheet, and trembling with agitation.
"Well, don't trouble about it, darling," said Sir William, in quite a different tone from that in which he had spoken before; "he is not worth troubling about; he really is not. If I could only get you to see that. Here, take the letter, I suppose I shall have to let you see it; but don't make yourself ill again, for my sake!"
Evelyn took the letter and read it slowly through. As she read it a deep crimson flush came into her pale face; but this faded away and left her as white as death when she had finished reading. Then she rose from the table, without speaking a word, left the letter lying beside her plate, and went out of the room.