A LETTER!--STRANGE HESITATION.--GLOOMY FOREBODINGS.--JACK DOWN DEEP IN THE DUMPS.--FRESH CONFESSIONS.--WHY HE MISSED THE TRYST.--REMORSE AND REVENGE.--JACK'S VOWS OF VENGEANCE.--A VERY SINGULAR AND UNACCOUNTABLE CHARACTER.--JACK'S GLOOMY MENACES. "By Jove!" he exclaimed, "I'll be hanged if I haven't forgot all about it. It's been in my pocket ever since yesterday morning." Saying this, he held up the letter, and looked at it for some time Without opening it, and with a strange mixture of embarrassment and ruefulness in his expression. "What's that?" said I, carelessly. "A letter? Who's it from, Jack?" Jack did not give any immediate answer. He turned the letter over and over, looking at it on the front and on the back. "You seem hit hard, old man," said I, "about something. Is it a secret?" "Oh, no," said Jack, with a sigh. "Well, what's the matter?" "OH, only this," said he, with another sigh. "What, that letter?" "Yes." "It don't look like a dun, old chap--so, why fret?" "Oh, no," said Jack, with a groan. "What's the reason you don't open it?" Jack shook his head. "I've a pretty good idea of what's in it," said he. "There are some letters you can read without opening them, old boy, and this is one of them. You know the general nature of the contents, and you don't feel altogether inclined to go over all the small details." "You don't mean to say that you're not going to open it?" "Oh, I'll open it," said Jack, more dolefully than ever. "Then, why don't you open it now?" "Oh, there's no hurry--there's plenty of time." "It must be something very unimportant. You say you've had it lying in Your pocket ever Since the day before yesterday. So, what's the use of getting so tragic all of a sudden?" "Macrorie, old chap," said Jack, in a tone of hollow despair. "Well?" "Do you see that letter?" and he held it up in his hand. "Yes." "Well, in that I am to read a convincing proof that I am a scoundrel!" "A what? Scoundrel? Pooh, nonsense! What's up now? Come, now, old boy, no melodrama. Out with it. But, first of all, read the letter." Jack laid the unopened letter on the table, filled his pipe, lighted it, and then, throwing himself back in his chair, sat staring at the ceiling, and sending forth great clouds of smoke that gathered in dense folds and soon hung overhead in a dark canopy. I watched him in silence for some time. I suspected what that letter might be, but did not in any way let my suspicion appear. "Jack," said I, at last, "I've seen you several times in trouble during the last few days, but it is now my solemn conviction, made up from a long observation of your character, your manner, your general style, and your facial expression, that on this present occasion you are hit harder than ever you've been since I had the pleasure of your acquaintance." "That's a fact," said Jack, earnestly and solemnly. "It isn't a secret, you said?"