ly contrived to make that letter as oppressive as
possible. He had been clever enough to put into it words which were
sure to wound the poor Duke and to confound the Duchess. And having
written it he was very careful to keep the first draft, so that if
occasion came he might use it again and push his vengeance farther.
But he certainly had not expected such a result as it produced.

When he received the private Secretary's letter with the money he
was sitting opposite to his father-in-law at breakfast, while his
wife was making the tea. Not many of his letters came to Manchester
Square. Sexty Parker's office or his club were more convenient
addresses; but in this case he had thought that Manchester Square
would have a better sound and appearance. When he opened the letter
the cheque of course appeared bearing the Duke's own signature. He
had seen that and the amount before he had read the letter, and
as he saw it his eye travelled quickly across the table to his
father-in-law's face. Mr. Wharton might certainly have seen the
cheque and even the amount, probably also the signature, without the
slightest suspicion as to the nature of the payment made. As it was,
he was eating his toast, and had thought nothing about the letter.
Lopez, having concealed the cheque, read the few words which the
private Secretary had written, and then put the document with its
contents into his pocket. "So you think, sir, of going down to
Herefordshire on the 15th," he said in a very cheery voice. The
cheery voice was still pleasant to the old man, but the young wife
had already come to distrust it. She had learned, though she was
hardly conscious how the lesson had come to her, that a certain tone
of cheeriness indicated, if not deceit, at any rate the concealment
of something. It grated against her spirit; and when this tone
reached her ears a frown or look of sorrow would cross her brow. And
her husband also had perceived that it was so, and knew at such times
that he was rebuked. He was hardly aware what doings, and especially
what feelings, were imputed to him as faults,--not understanding the
lines which separated right from wrong; but he knew that he was often
condemned by his wife, and he lived in fear that he should also be
condemned by his wife's father. Had it been his wife only, he thought
that he could soon have quenched her condemnation. He would soon have
made her tired of showing her disapproval. But he had put himself
into t