Desiring to cut himself
off as completely as possible from his usual environment, he left
no address at his lodgings, but told his servant that when he wanted
his letters he would telegraph for them from the place, whatever
it might be, where he was halting. He kept steadily to his plan,
wandering over hill and dale, by lake and river, and steeping his
soul in "the cheerful silence of the fells." When he lighted on a
spot which particularly took his fancy, he would halt there for
two or three days, and would send what in those day was called
"a telegraphic despatch" from the nearest town. In response to
the despatch he would receive from his servant in Mount Street
a package containing all the letters which had been accumulating
during the fortnight or three weeks since he last telegraphed.
One day in April, when he opened the customary package, he found
in it a letter from Arthur Grey.
"The General has just told us that peace is practically settled.
If this proves true, you will not get another letter from me. I
presume we shall be sent home directly, and I shall make straight
for London and Mount Street, where I expect I shall find you. Dear
old chap, I can guess what you have been going through; but it
looks as if we should meet again in this world after all.
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