From Francis Clare, Sen., to Magdalen.

[Inclosing the preceding Letter.]

“I always told your poor father my son was a Fool, but I never knew he was a Scoundrel until the mail came in from China.  I have every reason to believe that he has left his employers under the most disgraceful circumstances.  Forget him from this time forth, as I do.  When you and I last set eyes on each other, you behaved well to me in this business.  All I can now say in return, I do say.  My girl, I am sorry for you,

“F.  C.”

VII.

From Mrs. Wragge to her Husband.

“Dear sir for mercy’s sake come here and help us She had a dreadful letter I don’t know what yesterday but she read it in bed and when I went in with her breakfast I found her dead and if the doctor had not been two doors off nobody else could have brought her to life again and she sits and looks dreadful and won’t speak a word her eyes frighten me so I shake from head to foot oh please do come I keep things as tidy as I can and I do like her so and she used to be so kind to me and the landlord says he’s afraid she’ll destroy herself I wish I could write straight but I do shake so your dutiful wife matilda wragge excuse faults and beg you on my knees come and help us the Doctor good man will put some of his own writing into this for fear you can’t make out mine and remain once more your dutiful wife matilda wragge.”

Added by the Doctor.

“SIR—­I beg to inform you that I was yesterday called into a neighbor’s in Vauxhall Walk to attend a young lady who had been suddenly taken ill.  I recovered her with great difficulty from one of the most obstinate fainting-fits I ever remember to have met with.  Since that time she has had no relapse, but there is apparently some heavy distress weighing on her mind which it has hitherto been found impossible to remove.  She sits, as I am informed, perfectly silent, and perfectly unconscious of what goes on about her, for hours together, with a letter in her hand which she will allow nobody to take from her.  If this state of depression continues, very distressing mental consequences may follow; and I only do my duty in suggesting that some relative or friend should interfere who has influence enough to rouse her.  Your obedient servant,

“RICHARD JARVIS, M.R.C.S.”

VIII.

From Norah to Magdalen.

“July 5th.

“For God’s sake, write me one line to say if you are still at Birmingham, and where I can find you there!  I have just heard from old Mr. Clare.  Oh, Magdalen, if you have no pity on yourself, have some pity on me!  The thought of you alone among strangers, the thought of you heart-broken under this dreadful blow, never leaves me for an instant.  No words can tell how I feel for you!  My own love, remember the better days at home before that cowardly villain stole his way into your heart; remember the happy time at Combe-Raven when we were always together.  Oh, don’t, don’t treat me like a stranger!  We are alone in the world now—­let me come and comfort you, let me be more than a sister to you, if I can.  One line—­only one line to tell me where I can find you!”