Preparation by clerical friends had failed, owing to Lady Verinder’s own reluctance.  Preparation by books had failed, owing to the doctor’s infidel obstinacy.  So be it!  What was the next thing to try?  The next thing to try was—­Preparation by Little Notes.  In other words, the books themselves having been sent back, select extracts from the books, copied by different hands, and all addressed as letters to my aunt, were, some to be sent by post, and some to be distributed about the house on the plan I had adopted on the previous day.  As letters they would excite no suspicion; as letters they would be opened—­and, once opened, might be read.  Some of them I wrote myself.  “Dear aunt, may I ask your attention to a few lines?” &c.  “Dear aunt, I was reading last night, and I chanced on the following passage,” &c.  Other letters were written for me by my valued fellow-workers, the sisterhood at the Mothers’-Small-Clothes.  “Dear madam, pardon the interest taken in you by a true, though humble, friend.”  “Dear madam, may a serious person surprise you by saying a few cheering words?” Using these and other similar forms of courteous appeal, we reintroduced all my precious passages under a form which not even the doctor’s watchful materialism could suspect.  Before the shades of evening had closed around us, I had a dozen awakening letters for my aunt, instead of a dozen awakening books.  Six I made immediate arrangements for sending through the post, and six I kept in my pocket for personal distribution in the house the next day.

Soon after two o’clock I was again on the field of pious conflict, addressing more kind inquiries to Samuel at Lady Verinder’s door.

My aunt had had a bad night.  She was again in the room in which I had witnessed her Will, resting on the sofa, and trying to get a little sleep.

I said I would wait in the library, on the chance of seeing her.  In the fervour of my zeal to distribute the letters, it never occurred to me to inquire about Rachel.  The house was quiet, and it was past the hour at which the musical performance began.  I took it for granted that she and her party of pleasure-seekers (Mr. Godfrey, alas! included) were all at the concert, and eagerly devoted myself to my good work, while time and opportunity were still at my own disposal.

My aunt’s correspondence of the morning—­including the six awakening letters which I had posted overnight—­was lying unopened on the library table.  She had evidently not felt herself equal to dealing with a large mass of letters—­and she might be daunted by the number of them, if she entered the library later in the day.  I put one of my second set of six letters on the chimney-piece by itself; leaving it to attract her curiosity, by means of its solitary position, apart from the rest.  A second letter I put purposely on the floor in the breakfast-room.  The first servant who went in after me would conclude that my aunt had dropped it, and would be specially careful to restore it to her.  The field thus sown on the basement story, I ran lightly upstairs to scatter my mercies next over the drawing-room floor.