‘I think it’s from Louis,’ said Nora, as soon as the door was closed.  ‘If so, he is telling her to come back.’

‘Mamma, this is for you,’ said Priscilla.  ’It is from Aunt Stanbury.  I know her handwriting.’

’From your aunt?  What can she be writing about?  There is something wrong with Dorothy.’  Mrs Stanbury held the letter but did not open it.  ’You had better read it, my dear.  If she is ill, pray let her come home.’

But the letter spoke of nothing amiss as regarded Dorothy, and did not indeed even mention Dorothy’s name.  Luckily Priscilla read the letter in silence, for it was an angry letter.  ’What is it, Priscilla?  Why don’t you tell me?  Is anything wrong?’ said Mrs Stanbury.

‘Nothing is wrong, mamma except that my aunt is a silly woman.’

‘Goodness me! what is it?’

‘It is a family matter,’ said Nora smiling, ’and I will go.

‘What can it be?’ demanded Mrs Stanbury again as soon as Nora had left the room.

‘You shall hear what it can be.  I will read it to you,’ said Priscilla.  ’It seems to me that of all the women that ever lived my Aunt Stanbury is the most prejudiced, the most unjust, and the most given to evil thinking of her neighbours.  This is what she has thought fit to write to you, mamma.’  Then Priscilla read her aunt’s letter, which was as follows: 

’The Close, Exeter, July 31, 186-.

Dear Sister Stanbury,

I am informed that the lady who is living with you because she could not continue to live under the same roof with her lawful husband, has received a visit at your house from a gentleman who was named as her lover before she left her own.  I am given to understand that it was because of this gentleman’s visits to her in London, and because she would not give up seeing him, that her husband would not live with her any longer.’

‘But the man has never been here at all,’ said Mrs Stanbury, in dismay.

‘Of course he has not been here.  But let me go on.’

‘I have got nothing to do with your visitors,’ continued the letter, ’and I should not interfere but for the credit of the family.  There ought to be somebody to explain to you that much of the abominable disgrace of the whole proceeding will rest upon you, if you permit such goings on in your house.  I suppose it is your house.  At any rate you are regarded as the mistress of the establishment, and it is for you to tell the lady that she must go elsewhere.  I do hope that you have done so, or at least that you will do so now.  It is intolerable that the widow of my brother a clergyman should harbour a lady who is separated from her husband and who receives visits from a gentleman who is reputed to be her lover.  I wonder much that your eldest daughter should countenance such a proceeding.

Yours truly,

Jemima Stanbury.’

Mrs Stanbury, when the letter had been read to her, held up both her hands in despair.  ‘Dear, dear,’ she exclaimed.  ‘Oh, dear!’