That the gipsy might impose upon her, or that, even if she found out where the thimble was, she might not be able to get it back again, were matters which she never thought of. Her whole mind was occupied with contriving how she might get down to the spring to-morrow without the knowledge of Cousin Deborah. And she arrived at home before she had come to any satisfactory decision. CHAPTER IV. "THE post-boy have been here and brought some letters," said Jenny, as she met Lucy in the hall. "I should not wonder if Mrs. Corbet had news of my lord your father. Anyhow, you were to go to her as soon as you came in. She is sitting in the library." Lucy would have found it hard to say whether she were most alarmed or delighted with this news. She walked very soberly through the gallery, where the portraits of all the long-dead Stantons and Corbets hung against the wall, with suits of armour and groups of strange weapons suspended between them, and tapped softly at the half-open library door. "Come in, my love," answered Cousin Deborah's cheery voice, in a tone which removed some, at least, of Lucy's fears. "See, here is a treasure for you,—a letter from your dear father, and directed to yourself." "Really for me, Cousin Debby?" asked Lucy, looking at the direction, and then turning the letter over and examining the broad seal. "I never had a letter of my own in my life." "Really for you; and I hope you will appreciate your father's goodness in taking so much pains for you. I assure you I was twice—yes, three times—as old as you before I ever had a letter of my own. But open it, and let us hear the news. I did not examine it, because I thought you would like the pleasure of breaking the seal yourself." "Just the way," thought Lucy. "She always thinks of what I shall like. Oh, how wicked I am! Oh, if I only dared tell her all about the thimble! I wonder if I could? But, then, the gipsy-woman, and those terrible threats. Oh, dear! I never thought I could be so unhappy at Stanton Court." Lucy broke the seal of the letter neatly, as Cousin Deborah showed her how to do, and opened the broad sheet, which was closely written from end to end. "Please to read it for me, Cousin Debby. I never can read writing-hand fast." "You must take pains to learn, Lucy. I have some very pretty letters, which you can practise upon; but I will read this one to you, if you please." The letter was dated at the Duke of Marlborough's head-quarters, near Neuburg, a little place on the river Danube, not very far from Ingolstadt. It gave an account of such events of his journey as Lord Stanton thought would be interesting to his little daughter.