As we drew near Folkestone I remembered the letter, but the sight of the Roding postmark induced me to defer opening it till we should be on board the steamer. When Philippa was battling with the agonies of the voyage, then, undisturbed, I might ascertain what Mrs. Thompson (for it was sure to be Mrs. Thompson) had to say. We were now on board. Philippa and my mother fled to the depths of the saloon, and I opened the fateful missive. It began without any conventional formalities, and the very first words blanched a cheek already pale. ‘I see yer!’ This strange epistle commenced:-- ‘_I_ know why Sir Runan never reached my house. I know the reason (it was only too obvious) for _her_ strange, excited state. I know how he met the death he deserved. ‘I never had the pluck. None of the rest of us ever had the pluck. We all swore we’d swing for him as, one after another, he wedded and deserted us. The Two-headed Nightingale swore it, and the Missing Link, and the Spotted Girl, and the Strong Woman who used to double up horseshoes. Now she doubles up her perambulator with her children in it, but she never doubled up him. ‘As to your sister, tell her from me that she is all right. She has made herself his widow, she is the Dowager Lady Errand. ‘The fact is, _the Live Mermaid was never alive at all!_ She was a put-up thing of waxwork and a stuffed _salmo ferox_. His pretended marriage with _her_ is therefore a mere specious excuse to enable him to avoid your sister’s claims. ‘Now he is dead, your sister can take the name, title, and estates. I wish she may get them.’ CHAPTER VIII.--Local Colour. I READ the woman’s letter again and again, read it with feelings of the most mingled description. First, I reflected with solemn pride that Philippa was _more_ than an honest woman; that she really was a baronet’s lady! After we were married she should keep her title. Many people do. How well it would sound when we entered a room together--’ Dr. South and Lady Errand!’ Yet, on second thoughts, would not this conjunction of names rather set people asking questions? Yes, disagreeable associations might be revived. My second thought was that, if Mrs. Thompson kept her word, we might as well go home at once, without bothering about the Soudan. The White Groom, I felt certain, had long been speechless. There was thus no one to connect Lady Errand with the decease of Sir Runan. Moreover, Philippa’s self-respect was now assured. She had lost it when she learned that she was not Sir Runan’s wife; she would regain it when she became aware that she had made herself Sir Runan’s widow. Such is the character of feminine morality, as I understand the workings of woman’s heart. I had reached this point in my soliloquy, when I reflected that perhaps I had better _not_ tell Philippa anything about it.