Beyond the Rocks

And these were they: "MY LORD,--You will have received, I presume, a

communication addressed to you and intended for me. The enclosed

speaks for itself. I send it to you because it is my duty to do so.

If I were a young man, though I am not of your class, I would kill

you. But I am growing old, and my day is over. All I ask of you is

never, under any circumstances, to let my wife know of her

mistake about the letters. I do not wish to grieve her, or cause

her more suffering than you have already brought upon her.

"Believe me,

"Yours faithfully,

"JOSIAH BROWN."

Then he got down the Peerage and found the correct form of

superscription he must place upon the envelope.

He folded the two letters, his own and Theodora's, and, slipping them

in, sealed the packet with his great seal which was graven with a deep

J.B. And lest he should change his mind, he rang the bell for the

waiter, and had it despatched to the post at once--to be sent by

express. If possible it must reach Lord Bracondale at the same time as

the other letter--Theodora's letter to himself in the wrong envelope.

And then poor Josiah subsided into his chair again, and suffered and

suffered. He was conscious of nothing else--just intense, overwhelming

suffering.

When his secretary, from his office in the City, came in about

luncheon-time to transact some important business, he was horrified and

distressed to see the change in his patron; for Josiah looked crumpled

and shrivelled and old.

"I caught a chill coming from Bessington last night," he explained, "and

I will send for Toplington to give me a draught if you will kindly touch

the bell."

Then he tried to concentrate his mind on his affairs and get through the

day. But the gray look kept growing and growing, and the secretary

decided towards evening to suggest sending for Theodora. Josiah,

however, would not hear of this. He was not ill, he said, it was merely

a chill; he would be quite restored by a night's rest, and Mrs. Brown

would be with him, anyway, in the morning. Of what use to alarm her

unnecessarily. But he had unfortunately mislaid her letter with the

exact time of her train, so he had better telegraph to her before six

o'clock to make sure. He wrote it out himself. Just: "Stupidly mislaid your letter. What time did you say for the

carriage to meet your train?

"JOSIAH."

And about eight o'clock her reply came, and then he went to bed,

wondering if he had reached the summit of human suffering or if there

would be more to come.