Lady Mitford's dreary reverie was interrupted by the entrance of her maid, who handed her a letter from Alsager. As she took it in her hand, she saw that it had been sealed with the ring which she had given him, and she broke it open with mingled joy and fear. The letter was brief, kind, and earnest. Sir Laurence told her that he was leaving England, and wished, before doing so, to place within her reach a source of consolation which he felt she might to surely need. Then, in a few words, he told her of his letter to Helen Manningtree; and besought her in any emergency, in any unpleasantness, if she were ill, or even if she were only lonely,--as he knew she had cultivated no intimacies in her own circle,--to send for Helen. He had not waited for Helen's reply; he knew so well how warm and sincere an acquiescence in his request it would convey. He told her of the attachment existing between Helen and the curate, and said, "Had there been no other reason for my rejecting your advice, I knew she was, at the time of my father's death, virtually affianced to Cuthbert Farleigh." Lady Mitford paused in her perusal of the letter at this point. "Cuthbert Farleigh!" she repeated; "surely it must be the same--it must be poor papa's old pupil; how very odd, if it should be! If _he_ had ever mentioned me before him at Knockholt, he would have remembered me." Her thoughts strayed back to her childhood and her old home, and she sat absorbed in a reverie. "How thoughtful he is for me!" she said to herself softly; "how truly considerate! I will obey him in this and in everything. I will make this young lady's acquaintance-not just yet, but later, when I am more composed." And then she thought how delightful it would be to talk with Helen about Laurence; to hear from her all the particulars of his life at Knockholt; to make all those researches and studies which have such an ineffable attraction for loving hearts. There could be nothing wrong in this; men and angels might scrutinize her feelings towards Laurence Alsager, and find nothing to blame. There was little more in the letter, which concluded with an expression of the warmest regard. Lady Mitford felt happier for the receipt of this parting note from Sir Laurence. It seemed to decrease her loneliness--to surround her with an atmosphere of protection. Georgie had never associated much with women in her father's secluded parish. The inhabitants had been chiefly of the lower classes; and since she had emerged from the gushing schoolroom period, she had had none of those intimacies which make up so great a part of the happiness of young womanhood. Perhaps she had concentrated her affections in the object who had proved so unworthy all the more obstinately, and had lavished them upon him all the more unrestrainedly, because she had none of the lesser claimants for them.