Time was doing much for me; every hour was golden in its acquisition of
blanks in my life were filled by books. God sent every one the same
comfort I had.
[Transcriber's note: One or more lines appear to be missing from the
previous paragraph.]
CHAPTER XIV.
It was just three years since I had left Crown Anstey. Lord Winter told
me I should have some weeks to myself, but he was so incessantly
occupied I never liked to ask for them.
I had never seen or heard anything of Crown Anstey since I left it. At
Harden Manor all was the same, unchanged and unaltered.
One morning, when I went into the library, a letter lay waiting for me.
I saw that it was Coralie's handwriting, and my first impulse was to
burn it unread. Why should she write to me again? Her letters only
pained me. I threw it aside and began to work--in the busy occupation of
the morning I forgot all about it.
I did not open it until evening. It was from Coralie, but it only held
these few words:
"Edgar--My boy--my beautiful boy--is dying. Come to me; for if I
lose him I shall die, too. In my distress I would rather have you
near me than any one else.
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