The Master of the Shell | Page 3

the readiness with which he invited
the inquiry and his satisfaction in hearing that you and I were old
friends, that you will have nothing to say which will alter my
favourable impression. Still, as my child's happiness is at stake, I have
no right to omit any opportunity of satisfying myself. Anything you
may have to say I shall value and treat as confidential.
"I understand Mr. R., under his father's will, has a small property; but
of course it will be necessary for him now to find some occupation,
which with his abilities I have no doubt he will easily do. As usual, the
young people are in a hurry to know their fate, so it will be a charity to
them to reply as soon as convenient. Excuse the trouble I am giving
you, and, with kind regards to Mrs. B. and your sister,--
"Believe me, yours faithfully,--
"Fras. Herapath."

Number 5.--Mark Railsford to William Grover, Grandcourt.
"Lucerne, September 9th, 18--.
"Dear Grover,--You have often in your lighter moods laughed at the
humble individual who addresses you. Laugh once again. The fact is, I
am engaged. I can fancy I see you reeling under this blow! I have been
reeling under it for thirty-six hours.
"It's partly your fault. Coming over the Saint Gothard a week ago, I fell
in with a family party, Herapath by name; father, mother, boy and girl.
They had come part of the way by train, and were driving over the top.
The boy and I walked, and I discovered he was at Grandcourt, and of
course knew you, though he's not in your house, but Moss's. That's how
you come to be mixed up in it. During the last hour or so Miss H--
walked with us, and before we reached the Devil's Bridge my fate was
sealed.
"The ladies were in great distress about some lost luggage--lost by the
kind offices of the boy--and I went back to Como to look for it. It lost
me two days, and I never found it. However, I found the brightest pair
of blue eyes when I got back. I will draw you no portraits, you old
scoffer; but I challenge you to produce out of your own imagination
anything to match it. I don't mind confessing to you that I feel half
dazed by it all at present, and have to kick myself pretty often to make
sure it is not a dream. The father, whom I bearded yesterday, nods his
head and will say 'Yes' as soon as he's looked into my credentials.
Meanwhile I am tolerated, and dread nothing except the premature
turning up of the lost luggage.
"But, to be practical for once in my life. Amongst much that is
delightfully vague and dreamy, one thing stands out very clear in my
own mind at present. I must do something. My loafing days are over.
The profession of a gentleman at large, with which you twit me, I
hereby renounce. She will back me up in any honest work--she says so.
I've confessed the way I wasted the last three years. She said she is glad
she did not know me then. Oh my, William, it is all very well for you to
scoff. I'm not ashamed to tell you what it is that has brought me to my

senses. Don't scoff, but help a lame dog over a stile. My object in life is
to have an object in life at present. Give me your counsel, and deserve
the benediction of someone besides your friend, M.R."
The patient reader must infer what he can from these five letters. They
are copied word for word from the original documents, and speak for
themselves. I am unable to say whether the luggage was
found--whether Miss Daisy got her sleeves altered to her
liking--whether Arthur found any "fun" left on his arrival, a fortnight
late, at Grandcourt, or how soon Mr. Blake's reply to the father's letter
reached Lucerne. All these momentous questions the reader can settle
for himself as well as I can for him. He will at any rate be able to
understand that when one day in October a telegram reached Railsford
from Grandcourt with the brief announcement--"Vacancy here; see
advertisement Athenaeum! am writing"--it created no small stir in the
manly breast of the worthy to whom it was directed.
He went at once to Westbourne Park and held a cabinet council with his
chief adviser, and again, on returning home, called his sisters into
consultation. He wrote to his college tutor, drew up a most elegant
letter to the governors, read a few chapters of Tom Brown's Schooldays,
and then waited impatiently for Grover's promised letter.
"You will have guessed," said that letter, when it arrived, "from my
telegram