“If Richard and I can live like that I shouldn’t mind being poor myself, dear mother, because I remember well enough when we were poor, and when you used to sew for us, and do all the rough work, and indulged us far too much; and I was happier then than I have been since—until now,” Anne replied softly. Mrs. Clavering sighed. “All the others, except you, seem to have forgot all about it.” This was the nearest Mrs. Clavering ever came to a complaint or a reproach. And then Anne, with loving pride, told her of Baskerville’s kind words about her, of his voluntary offers of respect and attention. Mrs. Clavering, sitting up in bed, put her large, toil–worn hands to her face and wept a little. “Did he say that, my dear, about your poor, ignorant mother? I tell you, Anne, there are some gentlemen in this world, men who feel sorry for a woman like me and treat ’em kind and right, like Mr. Baskerville does. Now, you tell him for me—because I’d never have the courage to tell him myself—that I thank him a thousand times, and he’ll never be made to regret his kindness to me; and tell him anythin’ else that would be proper to say, and especially that I ain’t goin’ to bother him. But I tell you, Anne, I’m very happy this night. I wouldn’t have gone without knowin’ this for anythin’—not for anythin’.” Then the mother and daughter, woman–like, wept in each other’s arms, and were happy and comforted. The next morning brought Anne a letter from Baskerville. Clouded as Anne Clavering’s love–affair was, with many outside perplexities, restraints, shames, and griefs, she did not miss all of what the French call the little flowers of love—among others the being wakened from sleep in the morning by a letter from her lover. Her first waking thought in her luxurious bedroom was that a letter from Baskerville would soon be in her hands. And when the maid entered and laid it on her pillow and departed Anne held it to her heart before breaking the seal. Then, lighting her bedside candle in the dark of the winter morning, she read her precious letter. In it Baskerville told her that he was urgently called to New York that day, but would return the next; and his first appointment after his return would be to see Senator Clavering, for they must arrange, for obvious reasons, to be married at the earliest possible moment. There were not many endearing terms in the letter—for Baskerville, like most men of fine sense and deep dealing, did not find it easy to put his love on paper; but those few words were enough—so Anne Clavering thought. And Baskerville told her that she would receive a letter from him daily, in lieu of the visit which he could not pay her at her father’s house.