t once shown in. How vividly I
remember that first interview of ours, the exact condition of the room,
Hugh's attitude of lively anticipation, the precise way in which he held
his cigarette, the grim, short bark of the fox-terrier that sprang up
from a sofa when I came in. Hugh was almost twenty-four years old,
rather tall, slim, with intense, large, dark eyes--full of shining
cheerfulness just then--very short, curling black hair, and fine,
straight features. His expression was boyish; so were his movements. As
soon as he saw me, he sprang forward and gave me an enthusiastic
welcome--for the sake of Kate, I knew. He led me to the fire and made me
sit down. I at once handed him my credentials, Kate's letter. His face
flushed with pleasure, and his fingers twitched with the desire to tear
it open, but he refrained politely, and began to talk--about her, I
confess. I understood in three minutes how deeply he was in love with
her. I told him all about her that might please him, and hinted at the
contents of the letter.

"What!" he exclaimed joyously. "She wants to hasten on our marriage at
last. And she's kept me off--but you know what girls are! She couldn't
leave the hospital immediately. She swore it. There were a thousand
reasons for delay. But now--by Jove!"

His eyes were suddenly radiant, and he clutched hold of my hand like a
schoolboy.

"You are a good chap to bring me such a letter," he cried.

"Read it," I said, again filled with moral self-satisfaction, vain,
paltry egoist that I was.

"No, no--presently."

But I insisted; and at length he complied, enchanted to yield to my
importunity. He opened the letter, and, as he broke the seal, his face
was like morning. Never shall I forget the change that grew in it as he
read. When he had finished his face was like starless night. He looked
old, haggard, black, shrunken. I watched him with a sensation that
something had gone wrong with my sight. Surely radiance was fully before
me and my tricked vision saw it as despair. Raising his blank, bleak
eyes from the letter, Hugh stared towards me and opened his lips. But no
sound came from them. He frowned, as if in fury at his own dumbness.
Then at last, with a sharp shake of his head sideways, he said in a low
and dry voice:

"You know what is in this letter, you say?"

"I--I thought so," I answered, growing cold and filled with anxiety.

"Well, read it, will you?"

I took the paper from his hand and read:--