‘Algernon,’ he said feebly, ‘have you come to your right mind?’
‘I have,’ he replied—‘I have. That is the reason why I am here, and why I am staying here.’
‘Then I can do nothing for you. Poor boy! my heart bleeds for you.’
‘My poor father,’ said his son, speaking in a parable, ‘my heart has bled for you a long time. Patience!—wait a little.’
‘The last wedding-present has arrived,’ said Sir Robert. ‘What we are to do I cannot, dare not, think. Your mother must break the news to Frederica.’
‘Whose is the wedding-present?’
‘It is from Lord Chester—the most magnificent hunter, saddled, and all; with a note.’
Algernon sprang to his feet and rushed to the window. On the carriage-drive he saw a little stable-boy leading a horse. He knew the boy as one of Lord Chester’s—a sharp, trusty lad. What was the horse saddled for?
‘Give me the letter,’ he said almost fiercely, to his father.
Sir Robert handed him the note, which lady Dunquerque had opened and read:—