At the same time, there came a packet franked by a not very satisfactory peer, brother to Lady Louisa. My father threw a note over to Clarence, and proceeded to read a very properly expressed letter full of apologies and condolences for the Fordyces. ‘He could not have got the letter in time’ was my father’s comment. ‘When did you forward the letter? How was it addressed? Clarence, I say, didn’t you hear?’ Clarence lifted up his face from his letter, so much flushed that my mother broke in—‘What’s the matter? A mistake in the post-town would account for the delay. Has he had the letter?’ ‘Oh yes.’ ‘Not in time—eh?’ ‘I’m afraid,’ and he faltered, ‘he did.’ ‘Did he or did he not?’ demanded my mother. ‘What does he say?’ exclaimed my father. ‘Sir’ (always an unpropitious beginning for poor Clarence), ‘I should prefer not showing you.’ ‘Nonsense!’ exclaimed my mother: ‘you do no good by concealing it!’ ‘Let me see his letter,’ said my father, in the voice there was no gainsaying, and absolutely taking it from Clarence. None of us will ever forget the tone in which he read it aloud at the breakfast-table. ‘DEAR BILL—What possessed you to send a death’s-head to the feast? The letter would have bitten no one in my chambers. A nice scrape I shall be in if you let out that your officious precision forwarded it. Of course at the last moment I could not upset the whole affair and leave Lydia to languish in vain. The whole thing went off magnificently. Keep counsel and no harm is done. You owe me that for sending on the letter.—Yours, ‘J. G. W.’ Clarence had not read to the end when the letter was taken from him. Indeed to inclose such a note in a dispatch sure to be opened _en famille_ was one of Griffith’s haphazard proceedings, which arose from the present being always much more to him than the absent. Clarence was much shocked at hearing these last sentences, and exclaimed, ‘He meant it in confidence, papa; I implore you to treat it as unread!’ My father was always scrupulous about private letters, and said, ‘I beg your pardon, Clarence; I should not have forced it from you. I wish I had not seen it.’ My mother gave something between a snort and a sigh. ‘It is right for us to know the truth,’ she said, ‘but that is enough. There is no need that they should know at Hillside what was Griffith’s alternative.’ ‘I would not add a pang to that dear girl’s grief,’ said my father; ‘but I see the Fordyces were right. I shall never do anything to bring these two together again.’ My mother chimed in with something about preferring Lady Peacock and the Bella Vista crew to Ellen and Hillside, which made us rush into the breach with incoherent defence.