he tray on the table.
But the architect only grunted, and went on with ruler and compass at
the plan with which he was busy. Miss Joliffe would have been more than
woman had she not felt a burning curiosity to know the contents of so
important a missive; and to leave a nobleman's letter neglected on the
table seemed to her little short of sacrilege.
Never had breakfast taken longer to lay, and still there was the letter
lying by the tin cover, which (so near is grandeur to our dust)
concealed a simple bloater. Poor Miss Joliffe made a last effort ere
she left the room to bring Westray to a proper appreciation of the
situation.
"There is a letter for you, sir; I think it is from Lord Blandamer."
"Yes, yes," the architect said sharply; "I will attend to it presently."
And so she retired, routed.
Westray's nonchalance had been in part assumed. He was anxious to show
that he, at any rate, could rise superior to artificial distinctions of
rank, and was no more to be impressed by peers than peasants. He kept
up this philosophic indifference even after Miss Joliffe left the room;
for he took life very seriously, and felt his duty towards himself to be
at least as important as that towards his neighbours. Resolution lasted
till the second cup of tea, and then he opened the letter.
"Dear Sir" (it began),
"I understood from you yesterday that the repairs to the north
transept of Cullerne Minster are estimated to cost 7,800 pounds. This
charge I should like to bear myself, and thus release for other
purposes of restoration the sum already collected. I am also prepared
to undertake whatever additional outlay is required to put the whole
building in a state of substantial repair. Will you kindly inform Sir
George Farquhar of this, and ask him to review the scheme of
restoration as modified by these considerations? I shall be in
Cullerne on Saturday next, and hope I may find you at home if I call
about five in the afternoon, and that you may then have time to show
me the church.
"I am, dear sir,
"Very truly yours,
"Blandamer."
Westray had scanned the letter so rapidly that he knew its contents by
intuition rather than by the more prosaic method of reading. Nor did he
re-read it several times, as is generally postulated by important
communications in fiction; he simply held it in his hand, and crumpled
it unconsciously, while he thought. He was surprised, and he was
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