not deceived. Two three-masters, one
French, the other English, which had sailed a month later than "The
Conquest," had arrived there at the beginning of the week, bringing
despatches.

There were two letters for Daniel, and with feverish hands and beating
heart he took them from the hand of the old clerk. But at the first
glance at the addresses he turned pale. He did not see Henrietta's
handwriting. Still he tore open the envelopes, and glanced at the
signatures. One of the letters was signed, "Maxime de Brevan;" the
other, "Countess Ville-Handry," _nee_ Sarah Brandon.

Daniel commenced with the latter. After informing him of her marriage,
Sarah described at great length Henrietta's conduct on the wedding-day.

"Any other but myself," she said, "would have been incensed at this
atrocious insult, and would abuse her position to be avenged. But I, who
never yet forgave anybody, I will forgive her, Daniel, for your sake,
and because I cannot see any one suffer who has loved you."

A postscript she had added ran thus,--

"Ah! why did you not prevent my marriage, when you could do so by a
word? They think I have reached the summit of my wishes. I have never
been more wretched."

This letter made Daniel utter an exclamation of rage. He saw nothing in
it but bitter irony.

"This miserable woman," he thought, "laughs at me; and, when she says
she does not blame Henrietta, that means that she hates her, and will
persecute her."

Maxime's letter fortunately reassured him a little. Maxime confirmed
Sarah's account, adding, moreover, that Miss Henrietta was very sad,
but calm and resigned; and that her step-mother treated her with the
greatest kindness. The surprising part was, that Brevan did not say a
word of the large amounts that had been intrusted to his care, nor of
his method of selling the lands, nor of the price which he had obtained.

But Daniel did not notice this; all his thoughts were with Henrietta.

"Why should she not have written," he thought, "when all the others
found means to write?"

Overwhelmed with disappointment, he had sat down on a wooden bench in
the embrasure of one of the windows in the hall where the letters were
distributed. Travelling across the vast distance which separated him
from France, his thoughts were under the trees in the garden of the
count's palace. He felt as if a powerful effort of his will would enable
him to transport himself thither. By the pale light of the moon he
t