Two months afterwards came a letter to Squire Passmore, bearing neither date nor signature. Though Edward's hand was unknown to her, Celia claimed the precious paper at once. "DEAR SISTER,--Last night I landed at Corunna. I shall be safe for the present, and the Lord is ever with me. Thank better than I could all who helped me. You will know from whom this comes. Love to both of you. God keep you!" Celia carried the paper to Patient, whom she guessed to be included with herself in the "both of you." "Thank you, Madam!" said Patient, when she had read it. "'Tis a comfort to hear that he is in safety. Yet I cannot forget that the Lord hath showed unto me that he shall die in the flower of his age." The 5th of June 1721, was Celia's thirtieth birth-day. She was seated at work in the parlor with Madam Passmore and Lucy, when a ring at the great bell summoned Robert to the front door, and was followed by his announcement of "Mr. Colville." Celia looked up in surprise to see if Philip's friend had sought her out. No; this was certainly not her pantheist adversary. He was a smaller and slighter man, with a much pleasanter expression of face than his namesake, yet with the same pale blue eyes and flaxen hair, and some resemblance in the features. "Mrs. Ingram?" he asked, a little doubtfully, with a smile and a low bow. "Mrs. Celia Ingram?" Celia rose to receive him, wondering all the time who he was and what he wanted with her. "That is my name, Sir," she said, a little timidly. "I once knew a Mr. Colville in Paris"-- "Who was my brother," said the visitor, in explanation. "It was Arthur Colville whom you met in Paris. I am David Colville. I have been commissioned to give something into your hands, and none other's, the signification of which I believe you know. I received it at Barcelona on the 18th of January last." And he drew a pocket-book from his breast-pocket, out of which he took and held forward to Celia something which brought a pang to her heart and a cry of pain to her lips. It was the Ingram heirloom, Lady Griselda's ruby ring, which was to be the signal to Edward Ingram's sister that he had entered into his rest. "When was this?" she faltered at last. "At Barcelona, on the 18th of January," David Colville repeated. "I had met him, for I also was journeying in Spain, three weeks before. I saw the end was near, and I stayed with him and tended him till he died." "Where is he buried?" "The Spaniards allow no burial to heretics, Madam--not more than they allow to a horse or a dog. He lies in a quiet meadow near the inn at Barcelona. I took care of that." "Thank you!" murmured Celia; "but no burial-service--O Edward!" The soft answer from David Colville almost startled her--"'Thy brother shall rise again.'"[9] "Yes, I know," she said. "And you, Mr. Colville--you do not share your brother's philosophical views?"