Dalhousie sought his room, and, scarcely heeding the salutation of his
wife, he seated himself, and drew forth the packet. Removing the blank
envelope, he found it was a letter, directed to "Emily Dumont," with a
request to Mr. Faxon that it might be delivered to her after the
writer's decease. This seemed to imply that the writer had intended the
clergyman as the keeper of the letter; but with this surmise the
overseer did not trouble himself. He turned the letter over and over,
examined the seal of Colonel Dumont, which was upon it, and, at last, as
though he had satisfied the warning voice of conscience, he snapped the
wax, and opened it. The letter was quite a lengthy one, yet, without
raising his eyes, he completed the reading of it. A faint smile of
satisfaction played upon his lips, as he re-folded the paper, and
returned it to the envelope.
"You have a letter, Francois?" said his wife, who had watched him in
silence as he read, and who noticed the complacent smile its contents
had produced.
"Yes, Delia, and our fortune is at last come," replied Dalhousie,
rising, and bestowing a kiss upon the fair cheek of the lady.
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