ssed him, so it was for me to recall him. Now
that the cat is out of the bag I don't mind telling you that I wrote to
him a few weeks ago."

"You--wrote--to--him!" said Aunt Mary in great agitation. "Algernon, you
sent me word by Magdalen that you refused to meddle in the matter."

"I daresay I did. I may not have liked the tone you took about it, Mary.
You are so devilish high-handed. In short, I don't mind telling you that
I was annoyed by your interference in the matter. But after mature
consideration--I turned the matter over in my mind--I was not the least
influenced by your long-winded epistle--that in fact rather put me off
than otherwise--still after a time I wrote a manly, straightforward
letter to Everard, not blinking the facts, and I told him that if his
feelings were unchanged--mark that--as I had reason to believe
Magdalen's were--he was at liberty to come to Priesthope and resume
cordial relations with us all. You observe that I only asked him to come
if his feelings were unchanged. _He is there now._"

It would be impossible to describe the varying emotions which devastated
Lady Blore, as her brother made his announcement. Her hands trembled so
much that she was obliged to give up any pretence of holding her cup. It
chattered against its saucer.

"When did you write?" she asked at last.

"About three weeks ago."

Aunt Mary seemed to make a mental calculation.

"It is my doing. I wrote a month ago," gasped Aunt Aggie. "Algernon, you
must not take the credit of it. I waited till you and Mary had decided
not to write--you know, Mary, you told Magdalen you would not--and
then--and then--I could not stand by and see that dear child's happiness
slip away for want of one bold word, one brave friend to say for her
what she could not say for herself,--I have seen so many lives wrecked
for want of a sympathetic hand to draw two severed hearts
together,--that I wrote. I wrote a month ago. A week before you did."

"I might have known you would do some folly," said Colonel Bellairs with
contempt. "I am glad this did not come to my ears earlier, or I should
have been very angry. It was most unsuitable, most undignified, that you
and I should both write. But," it was evidently impossible for him to be
seriously annoyed by anything on this particular afternoon, "all's well
that ends well. We will say no more about it, Aggie. Don't cry. You
can't help being a fool. But don't do anything of that kind, or of any
k