Thus it was that he was sitting in the fine old library, cigar in mouth, lazily scanning some letters and documents scattered before him. He found little of interest, however; but as his chair was comfortable, and as the golden sunset streaming in through the diamond panes illumined the room with a warm light, he experienced a languid satisfaction in making himself acquainted with his brother's secrets.
One by one he took the letters and digested their contents. Many were Cupid's missives, couched in extravagant language, and still emitting an odor of stale perfume. Some were tied together in bundles from various fair correspondents, others were flung indiscriminately among a heterogeneous accumulation of bills, receipts, and other papers similarly uninteresting.
At last, when he had finished the whole of those before him, he sat back, and for a long time smoked in meditative silence.
"By Jove," he exclaimed at last, aloud, "Douglas must have had a variety of lady friends of whose existence nobody knew. And they all loved him, poor little dears. No doubt his money attracted them more than his precious self, yet he was too wide awake to allow himself to become enmeshed in the matrimonial net." And he laughed amusedly. "Their pretty sentiments, kisses indicated by crosses, and mouldy scents, were all to no purpose," he continued, taking up one of the letters, and contemplating the address. "What a disappointment it must have been when he went abroad, and left the whole of the artless damsels to pine—or rather to seek some other fellow likely to prove a prize. And their presents! Good heavens! he might have set up a bazaar with the jewelry, slippers, smoking caps, cigarette cases, match-boxes, and other such trash mentioned in their dainty notes. I
