I opened the post-bag eagerly. There were two letters for Jessie
from young lady friends; a letter for Owen from a charitable
society; a letter to me upon business; and--on this last day, of
all others--no newspaper!
I sent directly to the kitchen (where the drenched and weary
postman was receiving the hospitable attentions of the servants)
to make inquiries. The disheartening answer returned was that the
newspaper could not have arrived as usual by the morning's post,
or it must have been put into the bag along with the letters. No
such accident as this had occurred, except on one former
occasion, since the beginning of the year. And now, on the very
day when I might have looked confidently for news of George's
ship, when the state of the weather made the finding of that news
of the last importance to my peace of mind, the paper, by some
inconceivable fatality, had failed to reach me! If there had been
the slightest chance of borrowing a copy in the village, I should
have gone there myself through the tempest to get it. If there
had been the faintest possibility of communicating, in that
frightful weather, with the distant county town, I should have
sent there or gone there myself. I even went the length of
speaking to the groom, an old servant whom I knew I could trust.
Pages:
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533