"Before you go on your errand of fastidious duty, read
this note that Henry has left for you, and which, doubtless, he thought
he was writing to the friend of his youth."
"Frances, I excuse your feelings; but the time will come when you will
do me justice."
"That time is now," she answered, extending her hand, unable any longer
to feign a displeasure that she did not feel.
"Where got you this note?" exclaimed the youth, glancing his eyes over
its contents. "Poor Henry, you are indeed my friend! If anyone wishes me
happiness, it is you!"
"He does, he does," cried Frances, eagerly; "he wishes you every
happiness; believe what he tells you; every word is true."
"I do believe him, lovely girl, and he refers me to you for its
confirmation. Would that I could trust equally to your affections!"
"You may, Peyton," said Frances, looking up with innocent confidence
towards her lover.
"Then read for yourself, and verify your words," interrupted Dunwoodie,
holding the note towards her.
Frances received it in astonishment, and read the following:
_"Life is too precious to be trusted to uncertainties. I leave you,
Peyton, unknown to all but Caesar, and I recommend him to your mercy.
But there is a care that weighs me to the earth. Look at my aged and
infirm parent.
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