Nothing short of her doing so would have been deemed by Norman fitting mention of Tudor's sin; nothing else would have satisfied the fury of his wrath.
On the next morning he received Gertrude's letter and Alaric's.
The latter he never read--he opened it, saw that it began as usual, 'My dear Harry,' and then crammed it into his pocket.

By return of post it went back under a blank cover, addressed to Alaric at the Weights and Measures.

The days of duelling were gone by--unfortunately, as Norman now thought, but nothing, he determined, should ever induce him again to hold friendly intercourse with the traitor.

He abstained from making any such oath as to the Woodwards; but determined that his conduct in that respect should be governed by the manner in which Alaric was received by them.
But Gertrude's letter he read over and over again, and each time he did so he indulged in a fresh burst of hatred against the man who had deceived him.

'A dishonest villain!' he said to himself over and over again; 'what right had I to suppose he would be true to me when I found that he had been so false to others ?' 'Dearest Harry,' the letter began.