“God bless you, my dear,” he said unsteadily. “Come and see me again.”
But it was not to be. A stroke took the worthy man off the next night with consequences which none of them could have foreseen.
The weeks that followed were one dream of delight to Carlotta.
They journeyed from town to town, discovering fresh beauties everywhere. He was charmed with his young bride, and for a moment the horrible craving for something new was stayed.
She thought he was showing her Italy, but the restless craze drove him on, only now he was happy at last, and satisfied with her sweetness.
At Ancona, where they stayed for several days, he got his letters.
He was utterly careless in these matters, but his butler sent him a batch now and then.
They had been watching the Bay from the battlements, with the sun flashing on the Adriatic waters, when he took a bulky packet from his pocket, and opened it carelessly.
There were some bills, some letters from his Club, and statement from his butler. Nothing to worry about. Then his eye caught a familiar writing, and with a quick catch in his breath, and a dull presentiment of evil he broke the seal.
It was from Winnie, as he had known by the writing, and he read it through twice. The large scrawly handwriting was clear enough, but the news was startling.