“Your last letter was very amusing, yet, somehow, it set me thinking, long and sadly; and some gentle remarks from Dr. Amboyne (he called yesterday) have also turned my mind the same way.  Time has softened the terrible blow that estranged my brother and myself, and I begin to ask myself, was my own conduct perfect? was my brother’s quite without excuse?  I may have seen but one side, and been too hasty in judging him.  At all events, I would have you, who are a man, think for yourself, and not rush into too harsh a view of that unhappy quarrel.  Dearest, family quarrels are family misfortunes:  why should they go down to another generation?  You frighten me, when you wonder that Nathan and his family (I had forgotten his name was Dence) are attached to Mr. Raby.  Why, with all his faults, my brother is a chivalrous, high-minded gentleman; his word is his bond, and he never deserts a friend, however humble; and I have heard our dear father say that, for many generations, uncommon acts of kindness had passed between that family of yeomen and the knights and squires of Raby.

“And now, dear, I am going to be very foolish.  But, if these Dences are as great favorites with him as they were with my father, she could easily get you into the house some day, when he is out hunting; and I do want you to see one thing more before you come back from Cairnhope—­your mother’s picture.  It hangs, or used to hang, in the great dining-room, nearly opposite the fire-place.

“I blush at my childishness, but I should like my child to see what his mother was when she brought him into the world, that sad world in which he has been her only joy and consolation.

“P.  S.—­What an idea!  Turn that dear old church into a factory!  But you are a young man of the day.  And a wonderful day it is; I can not quite keep up with it.”

“Dear mother,—­I have been there.  Mr. Raby is a borough magistrate, as well as a county justice; and was in Hillsborough all day to-day.  Martha Dence took me to Raby Hall, and her name was a passport.  When I got to the door, I felt as if something pulled me, and said, ’It’s an enemy’s house; don’t go in.’  I wish I had obeyed the warning; but I did not.

“Well, I have seen your portrait.  It is lovely, it surpasses any woman I ever saw.  And it must have been your image, for it is very like you now, only in the bloom of your youth.

“And now, dear mother, having done something for you, quite against my own judgment, and my feelings too, please do something for me.  Promise me never to mention Mr. Raby’s name to me again, by letter, or by word of mouth either.  He is not a gentleman:  he is not a man; he is a mean, spiteful, cowardly cur.  I’ll keep out of his way, if I can; but if he gets in mine, I shall give him a devilish good hiding, then and there, and I’ll tell him the reason why; and I will not tell you.

“Dear mother, I did intend to stay till Saturday, but, after this, I shall come back to you to-morrow.  My own sweet dove of a mammy; who but a beast could hurt or affront you?