"By making it the means of bringing about a reconciliation. You will write a letter of congratulation to Sir Oswald--a generous letter--in which you will speak of your penitence, your affection, the anguish you have endured during this bitter period of estrangement. You can venture to speak freely of these things now, you will say, for now that your honoured uncle has found new ties you can no longer be suspected of any mercenary motive. You can now approach him boldly, you will say, for you have henceforward nothing to hope from him except his forgiveness. Then you will wind up with an earnest prayer for his happiness. And if I am not very much out in my reckoning of human nature, that letter will bring about a reconciliation. Do you understand my tactics?" "I do. You are a wonderful fellow, Carrington." "Don't say that until the day when you are restored to your old position as your uncle's heir. Then you may pay me any compliment you please." "If ever that day arrives, you shall not find me ungrateful." "I hope not; and now go back to town and write your letter. I want to see you invited to Raynham Castle to pay your respects to the bride." "But why so?" "I want to know what the bride is like. Our future plans will depend much upon her." Before leaving Lorrimore Cottage, Reginald Eversleigh was introduced to his friend's mother, whom he had never before seen. She was very like her son. She had the same pale, sallow face, the same glittering black eyes. She was slim and tall, with a somewhat stately manner, and with little of the vivacity usual to her countrywomen. She looked at Mr. Eversleigh with a searching glance--a glance which was often repeated, as he stood for a few minutes talking to her. Nothing which interested her son was without interest for her; and she knew that this young man was his chief friend and companion. Reginald Eversleigh went back to town in much better spirits than when he had left the West-end that morning. He lost no time in writing the letter suggested by his friend, and, as he was gifted with considerable powers of persuasion, the letter was a good one. "I believe Carrington is right," he thought, as he sealed it: "and this letter will bring about a reconciliation. It will reach my uncle at a time when he will be intoxicated with his new position as the husband of a young and lovely bride; and he will be inclined to think kindly of me, and of all the world. Yes--the letter is decidedly a fine stroke of diplomacy." Reginald Eversleigh awaited a reply to his epistle with feverish impatience; but an impatience mingled with hope. His hopes did not deceive him. The reply came by return of post, and was even more favourable than his most sanguine expectations had led him to anticipate.