"'Our dear and venerable grandmother, whom may all good angels preserve--though her long life does keep us an unreasonable time out of our own--entrusted me with a mission concerning you upon my coming to London two days ago. She had made, or purchased, or in some way prepared for you, a splendid article, but whether it is intended to represent a purse or a bag, I am unable to say, being, in my uninitiated opinion, too large for the one, and too small for the other. A magnificent affair it is, redolent of silver beads and gleaming silks, and it was _lined_ with her usual Christmas present to you. Being in a generous mood myself, I slipped in another lining, knowing your partiality for feathers and laces, and any other sort of trumpery that costs money. This _cadeau_, duly prepared for transportation, and directed for you to the care of Madame de Nino, I brought to town, and was to have handed over to a quondam schoolfellow of yours, Miss Singleton, who was returning to Belport. Now you have frequently honoured me by saying I have a head that can retain nothing, and in this instance certainly the bag and the commission slipped clean out of it. In packing my carpet-bag this morning, preparatory to starting for Ireland, for which delectable spot of the globe I am bound, what should I come upon but this unlucky parcel. What was to be done? I called a hansom, and galloped to Miss Singleton's address, invoking blessings on my forgetfulness all the way. No result. Miss Singleton and the archdeacon had started for Belport. I was walking down Brook Street, on my return, wondering what I should do with the money, and who, amongst my fair friends in Ireland, would come in for the bag, when I nearly ran over Fred St. John, or he over me, coming out of Mivart's.' "'Why, where have you been buried?' said I. "'At Castle Wafer, for nearly the last month. And I am off tomorrow for Paris. Any commands?' "'I should just think I had, if your route lies through Belport.' And forthwith I delivered to him the unlucky parcel and its history. "So the long and short of it is, Rose, that you may expect to receive your bag safe and sound. Not so sure, though, as to the day, for St. John is proverbially uncertain in his movements. "I hope your friend Mademoiselle de Castella's health is improving. I would beg my remembrance to her, but have no doubt I have long since gone out of hers. She has my best wishes for her recovery. "Your affectionate brother, dear Rose, "F. Darling." "What news for Adeline! Get out of the way, Mary Carr." "Rose," said Miss Carr, in a tone of remonstrance, "it will not do to tell her." "Not tell her!" exclaimed Rose. "She is resigned and quiet now. Let her die in peace. News of him will only excite and disturb her." "Don't talk to me! Let me go!" for Mary had laid hold of her dress to detain her. "Rose, you are doing very wrong. She is almost in the last agony. Earthly hopes and interests have flitted away."