And now I must tell you something about myself—because if you are to be my sister you ought to know it all. I also am going to be married to a man whom I love—oh, so dearly! His name is Mr. Brooke Burgess, and he is a great friend of my aunt’s. At first she did not like our being engaged, because of some family reason;—but she has got over that, and nothing can be kinder and nicer than she is. We are to be married here, some day in June—the 11th I think it will be. How I do wish you could have been here to be my bridesmaid. It would have been so nice to have had Hugh’s sweetheart with me. He is a friend of Hugh’s, and no doubt you will hear all about him. The worst of it is that we must live in London, because my husband as will be—you see I call him mine already—is in an office there. And so poor Aunt Stanbury will be left all alone. It will be very sad, and she is so wedded to Exeter that I fear we shall not get her up to London.
I would describe Mr. Burgess to you, only I do not suppose you would care to hear about him. He is not so tall as Hugh, but he is a great deal better looking. With you two the good looks are to be with the wife; but, with us, with the husband. Perhaps you think Hugh is handsome. We used to declare that he was the ugliest boy in the country. I don’t suppose it makes very much difference. Brooke is handsome, but I don’t think I should like him the less if he were ever so ugly.
Do you remember hearing about the Miss Frenches when you were in Devonshire? There has come up such a terrible affair about them. A Mr. Gibson, a clergyman, was going to marry the younger; but has changed his mind and wants to take the elder. I think he was in love with her first.
Dorothy did not say a word about the little intermediate stage of attachment to herself.
All this is making a great noise in the city, and some people think he should be punished severely. It seems to me that a gentleman ought not to make such a mistake; but if he does, he ought to own it. I hope they will let him marry the elder one. Aunt Stanbury says it all comes from their wearing chignons. I wish you knew Aunt Stanbury, because she is so good. Perhaps you wear a chignon. I think Priscilla said that you did. It must not be large, if you come to see Aunt Stanbury.
Pray write to me—and believe that I hope to be your most affectionate sister,
This was received only a day before the departure of the Rowleys for Italy, and was answered by a short note promising that Nora would write to her correspondent from Florence.
There could be no doubt that Trevelyan had started with his boy, fearing the result of the medical or legal interference with his affairs which was about to be made at Sir Marmaduke’s instance. He had written a few words to his wife, neither commencing nor ending his note after any usual fashion, telling her that he thought it expedient to travel, that he had secured the services of a nurse for the little boy, and that during his absence a certain income would, as heretofore, be paid to her. He said nothing as to his probable return, or as to her future life; nor was there anything to indicate whither he was going. Stanbury, however, had learned from the faithless and frightened Bozzle that Trevelyan’s letters were to be sent after him to Florence. Mr. Bozzle, in giving this information, had acknowledged that his employer was “becoming no longer quite himself under his troubles,” and had expressed his opinion that he ought to be “looked after.” Bozzle had made his money; and now, with a grain of humanity mixed with many grains of faithlessness, reconciled it to himself to tell his master’s secrets to his master’s enemies. What would a counsel be able to say about his conduct in a court of law? That was the question which Bozzle was always asking himself as to his own business. That he should be abused by a barrister to a jury, and exposed as a spy and a fiend, was, he thought, a matter of course. To be so abused was a part of his profession. But it was expedient for him in all cases to secure some loophole of apparent duty by which he might in part escape from such censures. He was untrue to his employer now, because he thought that his employer ought to be “looked after.” He did, no doubt, take a five-pound note from Hugh Stanbury; but then it was necessary that he should live. He must be paid for his time. In this way Trevelyan started for Florence, and within a week afterwards the Rowleys were upon his track.
Nothing had been said by Sir Marmaduke to Nora as to her lover since that stormy interview in which both father and daughter had expressed their opinions very strongly, and very little had been said by Lady Rowley. Lady Rowley had spoken more than once of Nora’s return to the Mandarins, and had once alluded to it as a certainty. “But I do not know that I shall go back,” Nora had said. “My dear,” the mother had replied, “unless you are married, I suppose your home must be with your parents.” Nora, having made her protest, did not think it necessary to
