I hastened into Mary’s room. The letter was heavily sealed with red wax and the superscription upon it was in writing that I did not know. All excitement, I broke the seal. The letter was from the firm of notaries which for generations had conducted the affairs of our family. They begged to inform me that my letter had been handed to them in their capacity as notaries in charge of my uncle’s affairs. They regretted to announce that some seven months ago he and his lady had died of a fever within a few days of each other, the wife predeceasing her husband. As my uncle had died without issue, they had the honour to inform me that the estates passed to me as the next heir male. They noted with satisfaction that I had taken unto myself a wife and they looked forward with pleasure to making the acquaintance of my lady at no distant date. They took the liberty of enclosing for my immediate necessities a draft upon their agents in Old Hall Street in the city of Liverpool, and they trusted that as early as should be convenient to myself and my good lady we would return to Warwick and take up our residence in the old manor. They ventured to hope that the long and amicable relations which had existed between my family and their firm would continue. They assured me of their devoted services at all times, and they had the honour to subscribe themselves my humble and obedient servants. We read the surprising document with heads pressed close together, amazement fettering our tongues. Suddenly Mary drew away, and clasping her hands, exclaimed: "I’m sorry." "Sorry?" I said. "Why? The silly old man and his wife were nothing to you." "Oh no, it’s no’ that. I cam’ to you a tocherless lass wi’ naething to gi’e ye but my love--and noo ye’re rich." "Sweetheart!" I cried: and dropping the letter with the draft upon the table, I took her in my arms and drew her towards me. "Your love is more to me than all the riches of the Spanish Main. Gold is but dross: love is of God, and eternal." She slipped an arm about my neck, and laid her head upon my shoulder. "Ye can kiss me," she said--and added roguishly as she smiled at me--"if ye like." So it came to pass that within a fortnight of receiving the letter we arrived at Warwick, making the journey, as became our state, in a hired carriage with postilions. The needle-women of Liverpool had done their work well, and as I looked at the dainty figure, all frills and furbelows, beside me in the carriage I almost felt that I had lost the Mary I had learned to love at Daldowie. But the light in the pools of her eyes, the aureole above her forehead, and the smile on her bewitching face as she said, "Now, behave yersel’. Ye maunna crush my new goon," told me it was Mary still. *CHAPTER XLVII* *THE END; AND A BEGINNING*