"The Hemsborough postmark!" Janet said. "I don't know the hand. Who can it be from? Oh, Gilbert, it is from Mrs. Rayburn!" "Fred's mother—stepmother, I mean?" They all crowded round Janet. Janet gave the letter to her brother. "Somehow I can't see it," she said. "Read it aloud, Gilbert." Which Gilbert did; and then they all looked at each other, not knowing what to think. Before any one spoke, a man appeared at the window, which opened like a door, and, with a cry of "Gilbert and Aimée here! How lucky that I got off so early!" He pushed the window wide and came in. It was our old friend Fred Rayburn, and a very fine-looking man he had become. And if ever a man had cause to give thanks for a good wife, Fred Rayburn was that man. For, by the blessing of God, Janet's love for him, and Janet's faith in him in spite of his follies, had made a man of him. "Fred, Fred!" cried Janet. "Our boys—she has seen Fred—Mrs. Rayburn—here is her letter; read it, and tell me may I believe it?" Fred took the letter and read it. He looked at Janet and began to speak, but turned back to the letter and read it again. "Janet, when I was in England, Mrs. Rayburn was not quite in her right mind. It may be so still." "Do you think the letter shows that she is out of her mind?" Janet said. "No, Fred, I don't think so. She says she is weak in mind and body, and I suppose she was unable to make a thorough inquiry, but we must make it." "Certainly—of that, there can be no doubt. But do not build too much upon it, Janet, my darling; I fear it was but too plain that our boys were lost in the Kelmer." "I have never been able to believe it; and, you see, Mrs. Rayburn has felt the same. But what do you think of doing, Fred?" "I shall go to England as soon as I can be ready, and go direct to this place, Edgestone, near Cirencester. The truth must be easily ascertained on the spot. My fear is that her conscience, poor soul, being so burthened, she was startled by an accidental likeness—and the name being Frederick, and the young man an adopted son." "Yes," Gilbert Gray said, "and if the boys were alive all this time, why did they never let you know? Frank was seven years old; he surely could have told his name, and where you had lived, and then you would have heard. Take my advice, Rayburn, and write to this young Giles." "No, no—we must go," Janet said. "Fred, I am not often unreasonable, but I cannot rest till we are on our way home. Give me this satisfaction, let us go, and find out the truth together. We will take Lily too. Fred, you will take us?" "I will indeed, Janet. I wish you could feel how unlikely it is that there is anything in what this wretched woman says, but I can quite understand your longing to see for yourself. I have a few arrangements to make, of course. Gilbert, you and Emile will see after the hotel, I am sure." "I will do anything you like; but do remember how ill Janet was on the voyage out. Even if you must go, rather than write—"