“Nothing important, I believe. They show that he was staying at the Park.”
“We know that already. It is strange how we are continually mocked by the things we learn. It was the same with the letter from Australia.”
“That was an interesting letter—so are these—even if they tell us nothing that we do not know already.”
He opened the envelope, and took out the packet of letters. There were three: they were written on square letter paper: the folds had been worn away, and the letters were now dropping to pieces. The ink was faded as becomes ink of the nineteenth century. Leonard laid them on the table to read because they were in so ragged a condition. “The date,” he said, “is difficult to make out, but the last letter looks like ‘6’—that would make it 1826. You say that there is nothing important in them.”
“Nothing, so far as I could make out. But read them. You may find something.”
The first letter was quite unimportant, containing only a few instructions and words of affection. The next two letters, however, spoke of the writer’s brother-in-law:
“My little dispute with Algernon is still unsettled. He makes a personal matter of it, which is disagreeable. He really is the most obstinate and tenacious of mortals. I don’t like to seem to be thinking or saying anything unkind about him. Indeed, he is a splendid fellow all round, only the most obstinate. But I shall not budge one inch. Last night in the library he entirely lost command of himself, and became like a madman for a few minutes. I had heard from others about the ungovernable side of his temper, but had never seen it before. He really becomes dangerous at such times. He raged and glared like a bull before a red rag. Since Philippa is happy, she has certainly never seen it.”
In the third letter he spoke of the same dispute.
“We had another row last night. Row or no row, I am not going to budge one inch. We are going to discuss the matter again—quietly, he promises. I will write to you again and tell you what is settled. My dear child, I am ashamed to see this giant of a man so completely lose control of himself. However, I suppose he will give way when he sees that he must.”
“There seems to have been a slight dispute,” said Leonard. “His brother-in-law lost his temper and stormed a bit. But they made it up again. Well, Constance, that is all—a little quarrel made up again undoubtedly.”