blue. He pictured the dainty figure nestling in it, and a little glow stirred at his heart. After all, she was his wife, his fondly loved wife, and who could tell? Perhaps with the old life, old feuds would die out and with the new, joy and happiness dawn for them both once more.
John Chetwynd was not a religious man; he rarely went to church and he never prayed; but now he covered his face with his hands, and his lips moved inaudibly.
He was asking for a blessing on the new life, and there was something like a tear in his eye and a suspicious huskiness in his voice as he called out "Come in" in answer to a hurried knock at the door and flung open the lid of a grand piano which was littered with music and songs, running his hands over the keys and smiling a little.
The piano was to be a surprise: Bella knew nothing about it.
Perhaps it would keep her more at home, for she was very fond of music.
It had cost more than he ought to have paid, but still it was for her.
"Come in, Mrs. Brewer—what is it? I'm just off. You will have us both here to-morrow at this time for good and all, I hope."
"Indeed, sir, and I'm glad to hear it. Things do look most beautiful, and no mistake."
The good soul shambled across the floor and held out a letter wrapped in the corner of her apron.
"A boy brought it, sir, half an hour ago, but I clean forgot it, and that's a fact."
"Never mind. It is probably of no importance."
But it was. By-and-by his eyes fell on it as it lay where Mrs. Brewer's hard-working fingers had placed it, on the edge of a little gaily-lined work table destined to hold Bella Chetwynd's cotton and needles, and to his astonishment he observed it was in his wife's handwriting.
Ah! written just before she started for the——.He caught it up and tore it open. The next instant it fluttered from his hold.
For fully ten seconds John Chetwynd sat spell-bound, and then
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