‘Would yo’ let me see it?’ said Sylvia, timidly.

Mrs. Brunton graciously consented; and Sylvia brought her newly acquired reading-knowledge, hitherto principally exercised on the Old Testament, to bear on these words.

There was nothing wonderful in them, nothing that she might not have expected; and yet the surprise turned her giddy for a moment or two.  She never thought of seeing him again, never.  But to think of his caring for another woman as much as he had done for her, nay, perhaps more!

The idea was irresistibly forced upon her that Philip would not have acted so; it would have taken long years before he could have been induced to put another on the throne she had once occupied.  For the first time in her life she seemed to recognize the real nature of Philip’s love.

But she said nothing but ‘Thank yo’,’ when she gave the scrap of paper back to Molly Brunton.  And the latter continued giving her information about Kinraid’s marriage.

‘He were down in t’ west, Plymouth or somewheere, when he met wi’ her.  She’s no feyther; he’d been in t’ sugar-baking business; but from what Kinraid wrote to old Turner, th’ uncle as brought him up at Cullercoats, she’s had t’ best of edications:  can play on t’ instrument and dance t’ shawl dance; and Kinraid had all her money settled on her, though she said she’d rayther give it all to him, which I must say, being his cousin, was very pretty on her.  He’s left her now, having to go off in t’ Tigre, as is his ship, to t’ Mediterranean seas; and she’s written to offer to come and see old Turner, and make friends with his relations, and Brunton is going to gi’e me a crimson satin as soon as we know for certain when she’s coming, for we’re sure to be asked out to Cullercoats.’

‘I wonder if she’s very pretty?’ asked Sylvia, faintly, in the first pause in this torrent of talk.

’Oh! she’s a perfect beauty, as I understand.  There was a traveller as come to our shop as had been at York, and knew some of her cousins theere that were in t’ grocery line—­her mother was a York lady—­and they said she was just a picture of a woman, and iver so many gentlemen had been wantin’ to marry her, but she just waited for Charley Kinraid, yo’ see!’

‘Well, I hope they’ll be happy; I’m sure I do!’ said Sylvia.

‘That’s just luck.  Some folks is happy i’ marriage, and some isn’t.  It’s just luck, and there’s no forecasting it.  Men is such unaccountable animals, there’s no prophesyin’ upon ’em.  Who’d ha’ thought of yo’r husband, him as was so slow and sure—­steady Philip, as we lasses used to ca’ him—­makin’ a moonlight flittin’, and leavin’ yo’ to be a widow bewitched?’

‘He didn’t go at night,’ said Sylvia, taking the words ’moonlight flitting’ in their literal sense.

‘No!  Well, I only said “moonlight flittin’” just because it come uppermost and I knowed no better.  Tell me all about it, Sylvie, for I can’t mak’ it out from what Bessy says.  Had he and yo’ had words?—­but in course yo’ had.’