’There is a great question about a supply of water to the town.  Much excitement is caused by the expectation of Rotherwood’s visit, and it is even said that he is to be met here by the great White himself, whom I have always regarded as a sort of mythical personage, not to say a harpy, always snatching away every promising family of Jane’s to the Italian quarries.

’You will have parted with the dear girls by this time, and be feeling very sad and solitary; but it is altogether a good connection, and a great advantage.  I have just addressed to Gillian, at Vale Leston, a coroneted envelope, which must be an invitation from Lady Liddesdale.  I am very glad of it.  Nothing is so likely as such society to raise her above the tone of these Whites.—–­Your loving A. M.’

’10.30 P.M.—­These Whites!  Really I don’t think it as bad as Ada supposes, so don’t be uneasy, though it is a pity she has told you so much of the gossip respecting them.  I do not believe any harm of that girl Kalliope; she has such an honest, modest pair of eyes.  I dare say she is persecuted by that young Stebbing, for she is very handsome, and he is an odious puppy.  But as to her assignations in the garden, if they are with any one, it is with Gillian, and I see no harm in them, except that we might have been told—–­only that would have robbed the entire story of its flavour, I suppose.  Besides, I greatly disbelieve the entire story, so don’t be worried about it!  There—–­as if we had not been doing our best to worry you!  But come home, dearest old Lily.  Gather your chicks under your wing, and when you cluck them together again, all will be well.  I don’t think you will find Valetta disimproved by her crisis.  It is curious to hear how she and Gillian both declare that Mysie would have prevented it, as if naughtiness or deceit shrank from that child’s very face.

’It has been a very happy, successful Christmas Day, full of rejoicing.  May you be feeling the same; that joy has made us one in many a time of separation.—–­Your faithful old Brownie,
                                                       J. MOHUN.’

(GILLIAN AGAIN.)

’ROWTHORPE, 20th January.

’DEAREST MAMMA—–­This is a Sunday letter.  I am writing it in a beautiful place, more like a drawing-room than a bed-room, and it is all very grand; such long galleries, such quantities of servants, so many people staying in the house, that I should feel quite lost but for Geraldine.  We came so late last night that there was only just time to dress for dinner at eight o’clock.  I never dined with so many people before, and they are all staying in the house.  I have not learnt half of them yet, though Lady Liddesdale, who is a nice, merry old lady, with gray hair, called her eldest granddaughter, Kitty Somerville, and told her to take care of me, and tell me who they all were.  One of them is that Lord Ormersfield, whom Mysie ran against