The next day accordingly at an early hour, Warenne sought the residence of Lord Framlingham in Charles Street, when, on his knocking at the door, the servant who opened it presented him with a note from Henry, stating, that in the course of the preceding night an express had reached them from Epworth Castle, the seat of Mrs. Honoria Epworth, who was Adelaide’s godmother, desiring them to set off immediately if they wished to find her alive, and that his sister and himself were in the act of commencing their journey at the moment at which he wrote. Poor Warenne, who had hoped to ascertain his future destiny before he again quitted Charles Street, was sadly disappointed at this intelligence. The evil, however, was without remedy, and he was obliged to retrace his steps towards home, there to await the hour of their return in all the misery of suspense. During this period he received the following letter from Frank:— “MY DEAR BROTHER, “Who do you think has just called upon me? Henry Marston. I never was so surprised in my life. He tells me that he came the night before last to Epworth Castle with his sister, to attend the death-bed of poor old Mrs. Honoria Epworth. She died a very few hours after their arrival, and has left every thing she possessed to Miss Marston. Henry says his sister will not have less than ten thousand a year, besides the old castle, which is beautiful;—did you see it when you were here?—it is not more than two miles from this town. What a charming godmother! I wish nevertheless that she had given Henry a slice of her property, for though he will eventually be Lord Framlingham, and rich, yet he would do great credit to a few thousands a year in the interim. He and his sister remain at the castle till after the funeral, when they return to London. When are we to see you again? Stuart rides in often from Oldham, and gives a good report of the two troops he has there, and I can do the same of the officers and men at Calbury. I command the four troops you left under my orders with a species of sedate authority deserving, though I say it, of much admiration. I have only one little _équippée_ to tell of, which is that I have fallen desperately in love, and that my love is returned; do not be frightened, Gerald, _l’objêt_ is a blind Irish-woman, who sells cakes and bulls-eyes on the sort of boulevard there is to this town. She is my delight, but our loves are too long, so God bless you! “Oh! I have forgotten the most important portion of my letter, which is, that I am making great preparations for the coming hunting season. I have sold Croppie, and bought two clippers, and I want you to let me be doing something in your stable. I should positively be a happier man if I might rescue your two old horses’ tails from their degraded state of switch, and square them a little. Once more, God bless you. “Your affectionate brother, F. W.”