on the escritoire just as it had fallen from Sir Jasper's hand ere he
had sank into that reverie which had been disturbed by the entrance of
Edith; she obtained but a hurried glance, yet it was sufficient for her
to decipher its full meaning. As she realized this a dark cloud passed
across her features, she moved silently to the window and looked out;
when she again turned the cloud had vanished and her face was calm and
serene. So occupied with the mail bag had been both uncle and niece that
the action of the lady in question, in first glancing over the paper on
the desk and her subsequent movement towards the window, had remained
unnoticed by either.

"There is a letter for you, my dear," said the Baronet handing one to
Edith. "Oh!" said she joyously, "it is from Arthur. He is the dearest
old fellow, and one of the best correspondents alive; he tells the
funniest stories of the college scrapes he gets into, and how cleverly
he gets out of them, and makes all manner of fun in his caricatures of
the musty old professors."

"There, there now, away to your own room," said her uncle, "and let me
know what new scrape your dear old fellow has been getting in and out
of, during our walk after dinner." Edith blushed slightly and hurried
out of the apartment.

"There are no letters for you this morning, Mrs. Fraudhurst, but here
are the London papers, I have no time at present to look over them, and
would feel obliged if you would lay them on the library table." She took
them, and with a graceful courtesy, smilingly left the room, and went
direct to the library, sat down at the table and drew the writing
materials towards her as if about to write; but ere she commenced her
head sank on her hand and she appeared to be, for some moments, lost in