Tristram passed the afternoon outdoors, inspecting the stables, and
among his own favorite haunts, and then rushed in, too late for tea and
only just in time to catch the post. He wrote a letter to Ethelrida, and
his uncle-in-law that was to be. How ridiculous that sounded! He would
be his uncle and Zara's cousin now, by marriage! Then, when he thought
of this dear Ethelrida whom he had loved more than his own young
sisters, he hurriedly wrote out, as well, a telegram of affection and
congratulation which he handed to Michelham as he came in to get the
letters--and the old man left the room. Then Tristram remembered that he
had addressed the telegram to Montfitchet, and Ethelrida would, of
course, he now recollected, be at Glastonbury House, as she was coming
up that day--so he went to the door and called out:

"Michelham, bring me back the telegram."

And the grave servant, who was collecting all the other letters from the
post-box in the hall, returned and placed beside his master on the table
a blue envelope. There were always big blue envelopes, for the sending
of telegrams, on all the writing tables at Wrayth.

Tristram hurriedly wrote out another and handed it, and the servant
finally left the room. Then he absently pulled out his original one and
glanced at it before tearing it up; and before he realized what he did
his eye caught: "To Count Mimo Sykypri"--he did not read the
address--"Immediately, to-morrow, wire me your news. Chérisette."

And ere his rage burst in a terrible oath he noticed that stamps were
enclosed. Then he threw the paper with violence into the fire!