“Too late,” remarked Fritz.

“Herbert Philipson had arrived that same morning; but, as Fritz observes, he was just an hour too late.  He had acquired a fortune, but his long-cherished hopes of happiness were completely blasted.”

“Why did he stay away five years without writing?” inquired Mrs. Wolston.

“He had written several times, but at that time no regular post had been established, and his letters had never reached their destination.”

“When did he find out that Cecilia was married?”

“Well, some people think it more humane to kill a man by inches rather than by a single blow of the axe.  Not so with Herbert’s friends; the first news that greeted him on landing were, that his ever-remembered Cecilia was probably at that moment before the altar pledging her vows to another.”

“I should rather have had a chimney-pot tumble on my head,” remarked Willis.

“Herbert was a man in every sense of the word—­the mode of his departure proves that.  On hearing this painful intelligence, he simply covered his face with his hands, and, after a moment’s thought, resolved to see his lost bride at least once more.”

“Poor Herbert!” sighed Mary.

“Foster was thunderstruck when the stranger declared himself to be the son of his old friend; and, after cordially bidding him welcome, sorrowfully asked him what he meant to do.  ’I should wish to see Mrs. Lindsey in presence of her husband,’ he replied, ’providing you have no objections to introduce me to the company.’”

“Bravo!” ejaculated Willis.

“Foster could not refuse this favor to an unfortunate, who had just been disinherited of his dearest hopes.  He, therefore, took Herbert by the hand and led him into the room.  Nobody recognized him.  ’Ladies and gentlemen,’ said he, ’permit me to introduce Mr. Herbert Philipson, who has just arrived from Sumatra.’  You may readily conceive the dismay this unexpected announcement called up into the countenances of the guests.  There was only one person in the room who was calm, tranquil, and unmoved—­that person was Cecilia herself.  She rose courteously, bade him welcome, hoped he was well, coolly asked him why he had not written to his friends, and politely asked him to take a seat beside herself and husband, just, for all the world, as if he had been some country cousin or poor relation to whom she wished to show a little attention.”

“I would rather have been at the bottom of the sea than in her place, for all that,” said Mary.

“Why?  She had nothing to reproach herself with.  Had she not waited long enough for him?”