Curiously enough, as Una was reading this the unseen minstrel below broke into the well-known air with its charming refrain. Reginald and Una looked at one another and laughed. "What a wonderful coincidence," said Reginald, peering over the balcony to see the musician; "if we told that to Miss Cassy she wouldn't believe it; but never mind, go on with the letter." "I got a letter from Dr. Nestley, the other day," read Una. "Of course, you know he married Cecilia Mosser, and went home to his own place, at some town in the North--I forget its name. He is quite reformed now, and makes an excellent husband. I hear he is making a good deal of money, and Cecilia is organist at a church up there. You remember how beautifully she played?" "I'm glad they are happy," interrupted Reginald, heartily. "Poor Nestley's life was nearly ruined by that scampish father of mine." "I see Aunty says something about him," said Una, quickly. "She writes: 'In the letter I received from Dr. Nestley, he says he heard that Mr. Beaumont--you remember, Una?--who stayed at Garsworth--a charming man--is in America, and has married a very rich lady.'" "I wish her joy of the bargain," said Reginald, grimly. "I suppose he has quite forgotten my poor mother." "Never mind, dear," answered Una. "I'm sure your mother is much happier now." "As a Sister of Mercy," said Reginald, in a musing tone, "poking about among the slums of London. It's a curious life for her to take up." "I think she always had a leaning that way," replied Una, with a sigh; "and it will make her forget the past." "I wish she would accept some money, to make her comfortable." "I don't think she will," said Mrs. Garsworth, folding up the letter; "but when we go back again, perhaps she'll give up London, and come back to Garsworth." "I'm afraid not," replied Reginald, gravely. "My mother is a woman of strong will, and she thinks she has a sin to expiate, so she'll stay and labour there till she dies. Well, what else does Miss Cassy say?" "Nothing particular," answered Una, putting the letter in her pocket. "Mrs. Larcher still labours under 'The Affliction.' Dr. Larcher has been to London, to attend some archæological meeting. Dick Pemberton has come in for his money and, Aunty thinks, has some idea of asking Pumpkin to be his wife." "Pumpkin?" echoed Reginald, in a shocked tone. "No, Una, you forget--Eleanora Gwendoline." They both laughed, and Una went on giving the news. "Jellicks and Munks are both well, and Ferdinand Priggs is going to bring out a new volume of poems." "Is he, really?" said Reginald, lightly. "Don't I pity the unhappy public! But all this news makes me home-sick, Una." "I feel exactly the same," she replied, rising to her feet, and slipping her arm into that of her husband. "Let us go home again.' "Yes, I think we will," said Reginald, after a pause, "I don't mind living at Garsworth, now you are with me, Una."