She lay and thought of it—­longed for it, and for the time of answering it, with the same soreness that had marked all the dreams of a restless night.  If she could only see her father’s letter!  It was inconceivable that he should have mentioned her name in his plea.  He might have appealed to the old friendship between the families.  That was possible, and would have, at any rate, an appearance of decency.  But who could answer for it—­or for him?  She clasped her hands rigidly behind her head, her brows frowning, bending her mind with an intensity of will to the best means of assuring Aldous Raeburn that she and her mother would not encroach upon him.  She had a perpetual morbid vision of herself as the pursuer, attacking him now through his friend, now through her father.  Oh! when would that letter come, and let her write her own!

She tried to read, but in reality listened for every sound of awakening life in the hotel.  When at last her mother’s maid came in to call her, she sprang up with a start.

“Deacon, are the letters come?”

“There are two for your mother, miss; none for you.”

Marcella threw on her dressing-gown, watched her opportunity, and slipped in to her mother, who occupied a similar cell next door.

Mrs. Boyce was sitting up in bed, with a letter before her, her pale blue eyes fixed absently on the far stretch of sea.

She looked round with a start as Marcella entered.  “The letter is to me, of course,” she said.

Marcella read it breathlessly.

“Dear Mrs. Boyce,—­I have this morning received from your solicitor, Mr. French, a letter written by Mr. Boyce to myself in November of last year.  In it he asks me to undertake the office of executor, to which, I hear from Mr. French, he has named me in his will.  Mr. French also enquires whether I shall be willing to act, and asks me to communicate with you.

“May I, then, venture to intrude upon you with these few words?  Mr. Boyce refers in his touching letter to the old friendship between our families, and to the fact that similar offices have often been performed by his relations for mine, or vice versa.  But no reminder of the kind was in the least needed.  If I can be of any service to yourself and to Miss Boyce, neither your poor husband nor you could do me any greater kindness than to command me.

“I feel naturally some diffidence in the matter.  I gather from Mr. French that Miss Boyce is her father’s heiress, and comes at once into the possession of Mellor.  She may not, of course, wish me to act, in which case I should withdraw immediately; but I sincerely trust that she will not forbid me the very small service I could so easily and gladly render.

“I cannot close my letter without venturing to express the deep sympathy I have felt for you and yours during the past six months.  I have been far from forgetful of all that you have been going through, though I may have seemed so.  I trust that you and your daughter will not hurry home for any business cause, if it is still best for your health to stay in Italy.  With your instructions Mr. French and I could arrange everything.