that evening john wrote a letter to his sister, mrs. darcy, who lived in ireland. the letter contained the following paragraphs:
“i am going down to malford on tuesday, an out-of-the-way spot near whortley. corin elmore—the painter fellow, you know who i mean—has bothered me into it. he has got a job there, uncovering and restoring the mural paintings in a pre-reformation church. all seems grist that comes to his mill. apparently the only attractions the place has to offer are gorgeous scenery, and later a superabundance of blackberries, if i choose to await their ripening. i don’t know for how long i shall find such attractions all-satisfying.
“address after tuesday next till further notice, the white cottage, malford, near whortley.
“i hope maurice and the kiddies are flourishing.
“your loving brother, john.”
[pg 18]
the morning before he left town john received a reply to his letter.
“a sojourn, even for a short space, in such a remote region sounds extraordinarily unlike you. perhaps it will have its compensations. you will deserve them, as i am sure you are doing this entirely on mr. elmore’s account. i wonder if you will chance to meet the delanceys. from all i have heard lady mary must be a charming woman, and i once met her granddaughter, rosamund delancey. she is an exceedingly pretty girl. maurice raved about her in a way that might have made a younger, and less experienced, woman than myself jealous.
“i heard an extraordinary rumour some weeks ago regarding the delancey estate,—that an american claimant had turned up. personally i gave little credence to the report. it savours too much of melodrama for this prosaic twentieth century. my informant had her facts pat enough, though. but it is too long a story to deal with in a letter, certainly too long when it is, as i believe, pure fiction. anyhow there’s a missing document, a murder, and a wolf-hound connected with it. true adelphi melodrama!
[pg 19]
“i hope you may chance to meet the delanceys....”
john glanced up at a small statue of our lady, which stood on his mantelpiece.
“blessed lady,” he said aloud in a tone at once respectful, fervent, and charmingly friendly, “join your prayers to her hopes.”
