“And you, Jane, you are looking much better than when I saw you in Edinburgh last.”

“You have not written to me at such length about your cottages and your allotments as I expected, Francis.  I suppose you are too busy to have time to write, but now you have come; we can talk over all these matters.”

It had not been voluntarily, or without a great effort, that Francis had so much slackened his close correspondence with Jane; but her letters were so cheerful, she seemed so busy and hopeful, she saw so many people, and appeared to be so much appreciated by Mr. Phillips and by all his family, that he had no hope of her allowing him to make the sacrifice he longed to make, and he thought he must try to accustom himself to look on her as lost to him.

“I have been busy,” said he, “but I do not attempt to excuse myself by such a reason.  I have not given you answers at all worthy of your letters.”

“I have always thought that it is considered the great art in a gentleman’s letter that he should put a great deal of matter in few words, while a lady piques herself on making an excellent letter out of nothing.  If your letters were shorter than mine, they were not, on that account, unsatisfactory,” said Jane.

“Your observation of character and manners is so much more acute than mine, that you can see and hear nothing which you cannot photograph faithfully, and make an interesting picture of, and you seem to have interesting people to write about,” said Francis.

“I do not think that if I had been at Cross Hall, and you in London, my letters would have been the longest.  Our old neighbours were very uninteresting—­do you not find them so?”

“All except Miss Thomson, whose acquaintance I have recently made, and who has enough of originality and goodness about her to give some salt to the district.  She is much interested in both of you; especially in Elsie, whom she saw at Mrs. Dunn’s, and got to make something for her, which has given the greatest satisfaction.”

“I must tell this to Elsie,” said Jane; “she needs a little praise, and it does her good.”

“But I want first to consult you about a letter I received the day before I left home,” said Francis.  This was his excuse for exposing himself to Jane’s influence again.  The thing might have been done by letter, but he scarcely though it could be so well done; so he had first seen Mr. McFarlane in Edinburgh, and then hastened to London to ask the advice of the dearest friend he had in the world on the subject of this ill-written and ill-expressed letter.  It ran as follows: 

“Melbourne, 20th April, 185-.

“My Dear Son Frank,

“I have heard that you are come into the property at last.  I knew he could not keep it from you, though he wanted to, for you was the hair, and had the rights to get it.  I hope you will not forget a mother that has always remembered you, though I was forced to part from you when you was very little, so you will scarce know my face again.  I would not stand in your light, and it has turned out all right for you.