He turned and went on with his toilet.
“Oh, Hector,” said Annie suddenly, and walked to the mantelpiece, “I am so sorry! Here is a letter that came for you yesterday. I did not care to open it, though you have often told me to open any letters I pleased. The fact is, I forgot all about it, I believe, because I was so unhappy at your going away without breakfast. Or perhaps it was that I was frightened at its black border. I really can’t tell now why I did not open it.”
With little interest and less hope, Hector took the letter—black-bordered and black-sealed—opened it, and glanced carelessly at the signature, while Annie stood looking at him, in the hope merely that he would find in it no fresh trouble—some forgotten bill perhaps!
She saw his face change, and his eyes grow fixed. A moment more and the letter dropped in the fender. He stood an instant, then fell on his knees, and threw up his hands.
“What is it, darling?” she cried, beginning to tremble.
“Only five hundred pounds!” he answered, and burst into an hysterical laugh.
“Impossible!” cried Annie.
“Who can have played us such a cruel trick?” said Hector feebly.
“It’s no trick, Hector!” exclaimed Annie. “There’s nobody would have the heart to do it. Let me see the letter.”
She almost caught it from his hands as he picked it from the fender, and looked at the signature.