“One for your father (it is Gulian Verplanck’s hand), this for me, from Clarissa, and the smaller one for you, Betty; let us go into the sitting-room and read ours together.”

“None for me?” said Pamela’s despairing voice, with a sob treading on the words; “oh, I fear me some evil has befallen Josiah.”

“No, no,” whispered Betty, stealing her hand lovingly into her sister’s, as she pulled her gently into the room; “father has the dispatches; these are but the long-looked-for letters from New York, Pamela, and I’ll wager there is something from Josiah among father’s packets.  Let us see what my letter says,” and Betty, having seated Pamela and Sally on the settle, placed herself on a convenient cricket, and broke the seal of her letter.  But before her eyes had time to see more than “Dearest Betty,” she was interrupted by a sudden exclamation from her aunt.

“Clarissa has been at death’s door,” cried Miss Euphemia, startled out of her usual composure.  “I knew this long silence boded no good.  Listen, I will read it,” and the three girls gathered round her chair at once.

“Dear and Honored Aunt” (ran the letter), “I take up my pen, after many days of pain and dire distress, to send loving greetings to you, my Beloved father, and my dear sisters.  For the hand of death was nearly upon me; thank God that I am still preserved to my dear Husband and to you.

“It was a very malignant and severe attack of Fever, and Gulian procured the services of no less than three Physicians, as for days I laid unconscious.  My little baby died at two hours old, and I never saw him.  Alas, how I have suffered!  I am now very weak, altho’ able to be dressed and sit up each day.  This is my first letter; and I pine so sorely for you, my dear ones, that my dear Husband permits me to write, and begs with me that you will permit one of my sisters to come to me and cheer my heart”—­

“Come to her!  Good lack!” cried impetuous Betty, interrupting the reader, “how is one to go when the British are in occupation?”—­

“How, indeed,” sighed Miss Euphemia; “but perhaps the letter will tell,” and she resumed her reading, after wiping her eyes softly.  “Where was I?—­oh”—­

“Father will no doubt be able to procure a pass from General Washington, which will admit the bearer into the City, and Gulian will himself be ready when you advise us, and will await you at King’s Bridge Inn.  Dear Aunt, send me some one soon, and let me see a dear home face, else I shall die of grief and homesickness, far from my own people.

“Your loving and obedient niece,

“Clarissa Verplanck.”

By this time Pamela was sobbing aloud, and tears flowed down Miss Euphemia’s cheeks, but Betty sprang to her feet with a little impatient stamp, crying,—­

“Aunt, aunt, which of us shall go?  Pamela, you are a gentle and charming nurse; shall it be you?”

“I!” sighed Pamela; “oh, I would go to the world’s end for Clarissa.”