“More than occasionally, my dear girl, you remind me of the woman whose price is above rubies.  I’ll go over and leave it for him at once.  Just to show the male superiority, however, I shall be careful to make my walk a few minutes longer than usual—­a thing of which you would be quite incapable whilst the contents of Miriam’s letter were unknown to you.”

Alone again, Eleanor sent the letter to Miriam’s room by a servant, and with uncertain fingers broke the envelope of that addressed to herself.  Already she had heard once from Mrs. Lessingham, who ten days ago left Naples to join certain friends in Rome; the first hurried glance over the present missive showed that it contained no intelligence.  She had scarcely begun to read it attentively, when the door opened and Miriam came in.

Her face was pale with agitation, and her eyes had the strangest light in them; to one who knew nothing of the circumstances, she would have appeared exultant.  Eleanor could not but gaze at her intently.

“From Reuben!”

“Yes.”  Miriam suppressed her voice, and held out the sheet of note-paper, which fluttered.  “Read it.”

The body of the letter was as follows:—­

“I hope we have caused you no anxiety; from the first moment when our departure was known, you must have understood that we had resolved to put an end to useless delay.  We travelled to London as brother and sister, and to-day have become man and wife.  The above will be our address for a short time; we have not yet decided where we shall ultimately live.

“By this same post I write to Mallard, addressed to him at the villa.  I hope he has had the good sense to wait quietly for news.

“Cecily sends her love to you—­though she half fears that you will reject it.  I cannot see why you should.  We have done the only sensible thing, and of course in a month or two it will he just the same, to everybody concerned, as if we had been married in the most foolish way that respectability can contrive.  Let us hear from you very soon, dear sister.  We talk much of you, and hope to have many a bright day with you yet—­more genuinely happy than that we spent in tracking out old Tiberius.”

Eleanor looked up, and again was struck with the singular light in her cousin’s eyes.

“Well, it only tells us what we anticipated.  Of course he made false declarations.  If Mr. Mallard were really as grim as he sometimes looks, the result to both of them might be unpleasant.”

“But the marriage could not be undone?” Miriam asked quickly.

“Oh no.  Scarcely desirable that it should be.”

Miriam took the letter, and in a few minutes went back again to her room.

At nine o’clock in the evening, the Spences, who sat alone, received the foreseen visit from Mallard.  They welcomed him silently.  As he sat down, he had a smile on his face; he drew a letter deliberately from his pocket, and, without preface, began to read it aloud, still in a deliberate manner.