her was very ill then, and I had no time to
write to her, but my message just after his death was plain enough, I
thought--what did she say to it?"

Mr. Leigh dropped his eyes slowly from his son's face, and put his hand
confusedly to his head.

"What was it?" he said. "I can't remember."

"Only two or three words. Just that all she could say did not alter the
case, or alter me."

This was rather a free rendering of the original message, but it was
near enough and significant enough for Mr. Leigh to be quite sure he had
never heard such words before. They would have given him just that key
to his son's heart which he had longed for.

"You must be mistaken," he answered. "I never received such a message as
that."

"It was a postscript. I had meant to write to her and had not time."

"You must have forgotten. You meant to send it."

"I sent it, I am certain. Have you my letters?"

"Yes. They are in that drawer."

Maurice opened the drawer where all his letters had been lovingly
arranged in order. He remembered the look of the one he wanted and
picked it out instantly.

"There it is, sir," he said, and held out to his father those two
important lines, still unread. Mr. Leigh looked at the paper and then at
Maurice.

"I never saw it," he replied. "How could I have missed it?"

"Heaven knows! It is plain enough. And my note, which came in the letter
before that; it was never answered. _That_ may have miscarried too?"

"There was no note, Maurice, my dear boy; there was no note. I wondered
there was not."

"And yet I wrote one."

Maurice was looking at his father in grievous perplexity and vexation,
when he suddenly became aware of the nervous tremor the old man was in.
He went up to him hastily, with a quick impulse of shame and tenderness.

"Forgive me, father," he said. "I forgot myself and you. Only you cannot
know the miserable anxiety I have been in lately. Now tell me whether it
is true that you are stronger than when I left?"

He sat down by the easy-chair and tried to talk to his father as if Mrs.
Costello and Lucia had no existence; but Mr. Leigh, though he outwardly
took courage to enjoy all the gladness of their union, was troubled at
heart. It was a grievous disappointment, this coming home of which so
much had been said and thought. No one could have guessed that the young
man had been out into the world to seek his fortune, and had come back
laden with gold, or that the older had just won