“Although I am just on the point of leaving England for some weeks on most important business, I must steal a few moments to write to you, lest indifferent and gossiping tongues should convey to you the report of what I wish to be the first to communicate. Former friendship and bygone events convince me that this intelligence will be received with some degree of interest by the family at the Vicarage. I am about to marry; it is no use seeking for elegant turns of language to announce it; that is the plain fact. The lady, who is already well known to you, has particularly commissioned me to give you the information; and when I tell you that she is no other than Miss Dora Barham, you may form some idea of the happiness which gilds my future prospects. I believe the ceremony will be celebrated immediately on my return from Germany, or as soon after as can be conveniently arranged. You can imagine the pleasure with which I contemplate settling quietly at ‘the Ferns’ once more, with such a companion and friend; and I trust her anticipations are as pleasant and vivid as my own. Among these must, of course, rank very highly the opportunity it will afford of carrying on the friendly intercourse with your family, which has already been so conducive to our happiness in past years, and which it will be equally desirable and delightful to establish on a permanent footing for the future. “With kind regards to your family circle, “Believe me ever, “Yours faithfully, “CHARLES HUYTON.” It was well for Mr. Duncan’s peace and comfort, that loss of sight had prevented his cognizance of many things which must else have come to his knowledge: it was well, too, that he could not see his daughter’s face as she read this letter. The bitter irony of those words was concealed from him, but she felt it to her heart. “Going to marry Dora!” said Mr. Duncan; “I am surprised. I thought he would have taken Isabel.” She was silent; she could not speak; the effort to read through these words in an unbroken voice had been almost too great for her; she was now recovering herself as well as she could. Mr. Duncan thought a little, and presently observed―― “Well, I am glad he has resolved to marry at last; and to have your young friend settled at ‘the Ferns’ will be pleasant for you, Hilary, as long as you stay in the neighborhood. You must write him an answer by-and-by, and we will tell him of your marriage, my child.” “Do you want me just now, my dear father?” said she, compelling herself to speak; “if not――” “No――no, not at all at present; let Nest come to me in half-an-hour.” Hilary escaped to her own room, carrying the cruel letter with her.