our the next
day, I listlessly drew aside the azure curtains of my couch, and
languidly rang a silver bell which stood on my dressing-table, and
received from a page dressed in an Oriental costume the notes and
letters which had been left for me since morning, and the newspapers of
the day.

I am not writing a novel.

The next morning, about ten o'clock, I arose and went down to
breakfast. As I sat at the littered table which every one else had left,
dreading to attack my cold coffee and toast, I caught sight of the
morning papers, and received some little consolation from them. There
was the Argus with its three columns and a half of "Important from South
America," while none of the other papers had a square of any
intelligibility excepting what they had copied from the Argus the day
before. I felt a grim smile creeping over my face as I observed this
signal triumph of our paper, and ventured to take a sip of the black
broth as I glanced down my own article to see if there were any glaring
misprints in it. Before I took the second sip, however, a loud peal at
the door-bell announced a stranger, and, immediately after, a note was
brought in for me which I knew was in Julia's hand-writing.

"DEAR GEORGE:--Don't be angry; it was not my fault, really it was
not. Grandfather came home just as I was leaving last night, and
was so angry, and said I should not go to the party, and I had to
sit with him all the evening. Do write to me or let me see you; do
something--"

What a load that note took off my mind! And yet, what must the poor girl
have suffered! Could the old man suspect? Singleton was true to me as
steel, I knew. He could not have whispered,--nor Barry; out that Jane,
Barry's wife. O woman! woman! what newsmongers they are! Here were Julia
and I, made miserable for life, perhaps, merely that Jane Barry might
have a good story to tell. What right had Barry to a wife? Not four
years out of college, and hardly settled in his parish. To think that I
had been fool enough to trust even him with the particulars of my
all-important secret! But here I was again interrupted, coffee-cup still
full, toast still untasted, by another missive.

"Tuesday morning.

"SIR:--I wish to see you this morning. Will you call upon me, or
appoint a time and place where I may meet you?

"Yours, JEDEDIAH WENTWORTH."

"Send word by the bearer."

"Tell Mr. Wentworth I will call at his house at e