"Indeed, sir, and I'm glad to hear it. Things do look most beautiful,
and no mistake."

The good soul shambled across the floor and held out a letter wrapped
in the corner of her apron.

"A boy brought it, sir, half an hour ago, but I clean forgot it, and
that's a fact."

"Never mind. It is probably of no importance."

But it was. By-and-by his eyes fell on it as it lay where Mrs.
Brewer's hard-working fingers had placed it, on the edge of a little
gaily-lined work table destined to hold Bella Chetwynd's cotton and
needles, and to his astonishment he observed it was in his wife's
handwriting.

Ah! written just before she started for the----.He caught it up and
tore it open. The next instant it fluttered from his hold.

For fully ten seconds John Chetwynd sat spell-bound, and then he
broke into a laugh--mirthless, hollow.

"And I prayed to my God to send his blessing on--our--future," he
said in a dull, mechanical manner. "Well, the last act is played out
and they may ring the curtain down. From to-night I believe neither
in woman, Heaven, nor hell, save that which each man makes for
himself."