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Vanslyperken
seized the letter as soon as it was produced, and passing by the woman,
went into the dining-parlour, where, with feelings of anxiety, he sat
down, brushed the perspiration from his forehead, and read as follows:
"_My dear, dear, ever dear Mr Vanslyperken,_
"Pity me, pity me, O pity me! Alas! how soon is the cup of
bliss dashed from the lips of us poor mortals. I can hardly
write, hardly hold my pen, or hold my head up. I cannot bear
that, from my hand, you should be informed of the utter
blight of all our hopes which blossomed so fully. Alas! alas!
but it must be. O my head, my poor, poor head--how it swims!
I was sitting at the fireside, thinking when you would
return, and trying to find out if the wind was fair, when I
heard a knock at the door. It was so like yours, that my
heart beat, and I ran to the window, but I could not see who
it was, so I sat down again. Imagine my surprise, my horror,
my vexation, my distress, my agony, when who should come in
but my supposed dead husband! I thought I should have died
when I saw him.


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