"God grant you may: and, if ever you should, think of your poor mistress, and give him--this." She put her finger into her bosom and drew out a bullet wrapped in silver paper. "You will never lose this," said she. "I value it more than gold or silver. Oh, if ever you _should_ see him, think of me and my daughter, and just put it in his hand without a word." As he went out of the room Ryder intercepted him, and said, "Mayhap you will fall in with our master: if ever you do, tell him he is under a mistake, and the sooner he comes home the better." Tom Leicester departed: and, for days and weeks, nothing occurred to break the sorrowful monotony of the place. But the mourner had written to her old friend and confessor Francis: and, after some delay, involuntary on his part, he came to see her. They were often closeted together, and spoke so low that Ryder could not catch a word. Francis also paid several visits to Leonard; and the final result of these visits was that the latter left England. Francis remained at Hernshaw as long as he could; and it was Mrs. Gaunt's hourly prayer that Griffith might return while Francis was with her. Ho did, at her earnest request, stay much longer than he had intended; but, at length, he was obliged to fix next Monday to return to his own place. It was on Thursday he made this arrangement; but the very next day the postman brought a letter to the Castle, thus addressed:-- "To Mistress Caroline Ryder, "Living Servant with Griffith Gaunt, Esq., "at his house, called Hernshaw Castle, "near Wigeonmoor, "in the county of Cumberland. "These with speed." The address was in a feigned hand. Ryder opened it in the kitchen, and uttered a scream. Instantly three female throats opened upon her with questions. She looked them contemptously in them faces, put the letter into her pocket; and, soon after, slipped away to her own room, and locked herself in while she read it. It ran thus:---- "GOOD MISTRESS RYDER,--I am alive yet, by the blessing; though somewhat battered; being now risen from a fever, wherein I lost my wits for a time. And, on coming to myself, I found them making of my shroud; whereby you shall learn how near I was to death. And all this I owe to that false perjured woman that was my wife, and is your mistress.