'immediate' on it."

"You had better open the letter yourself, I should say, Charles: my uncle cannot," said Frank, decisively.

"I wonder what he has to write about: it is not often we hear from him. Nothing particular, I dare say: the good old father has not, I am sure, a secret in the world. Or—do you think," added Charley, his face lighting with eager hope, "that the money can have turned up? What a glorious thought! Yes, I will open it."

He broke the seal of the letter. At that moment Lamb came in with fresh coffee. Frank, standing near the mantelpiece, watched the man put it down, and set two or three things in order on the table before going out again. As the door closed, Frank's glance chanced to stray to Charley's face.

What was the matter with it? The eager flush of hope had been succeeded by a look of dismay: nay, almost of horror. The letter seemed very short. Charley