“It grieves me to be obliged to send you disquieting news so soon after your departure from Naples, but I think you will agree with me that I have no choice but to write of something that has this morning come to my knowledge.  You have no taste for roundabout phrases, so I will say at once in plain words that Cecily and Mr. Elgar have somehow contrived to fall in love with each other—­or to imagine that they have done so, which, as regards results, unfortunately amounts to the same thing.  I cannot learn by what process it came about, but I am assured by Cecily, in words of becoming vagueness, that they plighted troth, or some thing of the kind, yesterday at Pompeii.  There was a party of four:  Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw, Cecily, and Mrs. Baske.  At Pompeii they were unexpectedly (so I am told) joined by Mr. Elgar—­notwithstanding that he had taken leave of us on Saturday, with the information that he was about to return to you at Amalfi, and there devote himself to literary work of some indefinite kind.  Perhaps you have in the meantime heard from him.  This morning Cecily received a letter, in which he made peremptory request for an inter view; she showed this to me.  My duty was plain.  I declared the interview impossible, and Cecily gave way on condition that I saw Mr. Elgar, told him why she herself did not appear, and forthwith wrote to you.  Our young gentleman was disconcerted when he found that his visit was to be wasted on my uninteresting self.  I sent him about his business—­ only that, unhappily, he has none—­bidding him wait till we had heard from you.

“I fancy this will be as disagreeable to you as it is to me.  The poor child is in a sad state, much disposed, I fear, to regard me as her ruthless enemy, and like to fall ill if she be kept long in idle suspense.  Do you think it worth while to come to Naples?  It is very annoying that your time should be wasted by foolish children.  I had given Cecily credit for more sense.  For my own part, I cannot think with patience of her marrying Mr. Elgar; or rather, I cannot think of it without dread.  We must save her from becoming wise through bitter sorrow, if it can in any way b” managed.  I hope and trust that nothing may happen to prevent your receiving this letter to-morrow, for I am very uneasy, and not likely to become less so as time goes on.

“Believe me, dear Mr. Mallard,
“Sincerely yours,

“EDITH LESSINGHAM.”

At seven o’clock in the evening, Mallard was in Naples.  He did not go to Casa Rolandi, but took a room in one of the musty hotels which overlook the port.  When he felt sure that Mrs. Gluck’s guests must have dined, he presented himself at the house and sent his name to Mrs. Lessingham.

She took his hand with warm welcome.

“Thank you for coming so promptly.  I have been getting into such a state of nervousness.  Cecily keeps her room, and looks ill; I have several times been on the point of sending for the doctor, though it seemed absurd.”