latives on that day. The result had taken him
entirely by surprise: it had unexpectedly secured to him a little income
of his own for the rest of his life. His future plans, now that this
piece of good fortune had fallen to his share, were still unsettled.
But if Allan wished to hear what he ultimately decided on, his agent in
London (whose direction he inclosed) would receive communications
for him, and would furnish Mr. Armadale at all future times with his
address.

On receipt of this letter, Allan had seized the pen in his usual
headlong way, and had insisted on Midwinter's immediately joining Mr.
Brock and himself on their travels. The last days of March passed, and
no answer to the proposal was received. The first days of April came,
and on the seventh of the month there was a letter for Allan at last on
the breakfast-table. He snatched it up, looked at the address, and threw
the letter down again impatiently. The handwriting was not Midwinter's.
Allan finished his breakfast before he cared to read what his
correspondent had to say to him.

The meal over, young Armadale lazily opened the letter. He began it with
an expression of supreme indifference. He finished it with a sudden leap
out of his chair, and a loud shout of astonishment. Wondering, as he
well might, at this extraordinary outbreak, Mr. Brock took up the letter
which Allan had tossed across the table to him. Before he had come to
the end of it, his hands dropped helplessly on his knees, and the blank
bewilderment of his pupil's expression was accurately reflected on his
own face.

If ever two men had good cause for being thrown completely off their
balance, Allan and the rector were those two. The letter which had
struck them both with the same shock of astonishment did, beyond all
question, contain an announcement which, on a first discovery of it, was
simply incredible. The news was from Norfolk, and was to this effect. In
little more than one week's time death had mown down no less than three
lives in the family at Thorpe Ambrose, and Allan Armadale was at that
moment heir to an estate of eight thousand a year!

A second perusal of the letter enabled the rector and his companion to
master the details which had escaped them on a first reading.

The writer was the family lawyer at Thorpe Ambrose. After announcing to
Allan the deaths of his cousin Arthur at the age of twenty-five, of his
uncle Henry at the age of forty-eight, and of his cousin Joh