“Have it as you like, Vauch, and don’t burn your little fingers,” said Davy; and then he opened the letter, and with many interjections proceeded to read it.
“‘Dear Captain. How can I ask you to forgive me for the trick I have played upon you? ‘(Forgive, is it?)’ I have never had an appointment with the Manx lady; I have never had an intention of carrying her off from her husband; I have never seen her in church, and the story I have told you has been a lie from beginning to end.’”
Davy lifted his head and laughed.
“Another match, Willie,” he cried. And while the boy was striking a fresh one Davy stamped out the burning end that Nelly dropped on to the grass, and said: “A lie! Well, it was an’ it wasn’t. A sort of a scriptural parable, eh?”
“Go on, Davy,” said Nelly, impatiently, and Davy began again:
“‘You know the object of that trick by this time’ (Wouldn’t trust), ‘but you have been the victim of another’ (Holy sailor!), ‘to which I must also confess. In the gambling by which I won a large part of your money’ (True for you!) ‘I was not playing for my own hand. It was for one who wished to save you from yourself.’ (Lord a massy!) ‘That person was your wife’ (Goodness me!), ‘and all my earnings belong to her.’ (Good thing, too!) ‘They are deposited at Dumbell’s in her name’ (Right!), ‘and—-’”
“There—that will do,” said Nelly, nervously.
“‘And I send you the bank-book, together with the dock bonds,... which you transferred for Mrs. Quiggin’s benefit... to the name... of her friend...’”
Davy’s lusty voice died off to a whisper.
“What is that?” said Nelly, eagerly.