The solemn man-servant, who was now also sleepy, but who saved the
respect due the young ladies by putting his hand over a yawn when he
let them in, brought Cornelia a letter which he seemed to have been
keeping on his professional salver. "A letter for you, miss. It came
about an hour after you went out. The messenger said he wasn't to wait
for an answer, and Mrs. Maybough thought she needn't send it to you at
the Synthesis. She wanted me to tell you, miss."
"Oh, it is all right, thank you," said Cornelia, with a tremor which
she could not repress at the sight of Ludlow's handwriting.
Charmian put her arm round her. "Come into the studio, dear. You can
answer it there, if you want to, at once."
"Well," said Cornelia, passively.
Charmian found her sitting with the letter in her lap, as if she had
not moved from her posture while she had been away exchanging her
Ptolemaic travesty for the ease of a long silken morning gown of Nile
green. She came back buttoning it at her throat, when she gave a start
of high tragic satisfaction at something stonily rigid in Cornelia's
attitude, but she kept to herself both her satisfaction and the
poignant sympathy she felt at the same time, and sank noiselessly into
a chair by the fireless hearth.
After a moment Cornelia stirred and asked, "Do you want to see it,
Charmian?"
"Do you want me to?" Charmian asked back, with her heart in her throat,
lest the question should make Cornelia change her mind.
There were two lines from Ludlow, unsigned: "I have received the
enclosed letter, which I think you should see before I see you again."
His note enclosed a letter from Dickerson to Ludlow, which ran:
"Although you are a stranger to me, I feel an old friend's interest
in your engagement to Miss Cornelia Saunders, of which I have just
been informed. I can fully endorse your good taste. Was once
engaged to the young lady myself some years since, and have been in
correspondence with her up to a very recent date. Would call and
offer my well wishes in person, but am unexpectedly called away on
business. Presume Miss Saunders has told you of our little affair,
so will not enlarge upon the facts. Please give her my best
regards and congratulations.
"Yours respect'ly,
"J. B. DICKERSON."
Charmian let the papers fall to her lap, and looked at Cornelia who
stared blankly, helplessly back at her. "What a hateful, spiteful
little cad!" she began, and she enlarged at length upon Mr. Dickerson's
character and behavior. She arrested herself in this pleasure, and
said, "But I don't understand why Mr. Ludlow should have staid away
this evening on account of his letter, or why he should have sent it to
you, if he knew about it already. It seems to me----"
"He didn't know about it," said Cornelia. "I haven't told him yet."
"Why, Cornelia!"
The reproachful superiority in Charmian's tone was bitter to Cornelia,
but she did not even attempt to resent it. She said meekly, "I did try
to tell him. I wanted to tell him the very first thing, but he wouldn't
let me, then; and then--I couldn't."
Charmian's superiority melted into sympathy: "Of course," she said.
"And now, I never can tell him," Cornelia desperately concluded.
"Never!" Charmian assented. The gleam of common-sense which had visited
her for an instant, was lost in the lime-light of romance, which her
fancy cast upon the situation. "And what are you going to do?" she
asked, enraptured by its hopeless gloom.
"Nothing. What can I do?"
"No. You can do nothing." She started, as with a sudden inspiration.
"Why, look here, Cornelia! Why wouldn't this do?"