It was plain that Lord
Strathern had gotten over his anger, and meant to have no quarrel with
him; or, more gratifying still, would not have the whole house of
Strathern involved in it, and so had given no hint of it to his
daughter. It was too the first note he had ever received from Lady
Mabel, and sportive as its tone was in the beginning, there was
something of feeling and even sadness in its close. L'Isle well knew,
while Lady Mabel had only chosen to assume it, that the time for
leaving Elvas was indeed at hand. Yet a few days, and a few things
were more uncertain than his again meeting Lady Mabel on this side of
the grave.
A few golden hours had yet to fleet by. Who would throw away a
happiness because it is fleeting? L'Isle had sunk into a delightful
reverie, anticipating the pleasures of the evening, when his man of
method laid before him the despatch from his other correspondent, Sir
Rowland Hill.
He read it hastily, and angrily threw it on the floor. He thought
himself an ill-used man! "Be in Alcantara by ten to-morrow! I will do
no such thing! I have been in the saddle for weeks. My horses are worn
out," (he chose to forget a fresh horse in the stable.
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