"My sister telegraphed to Dr. Bryant on Thursday from Reading station, and a letter ought to have been sent to you. But we were very much occupied. Lettice was so worn-out at first that she could do nothing but sleep; and she has been prostrate since with headache, really able to think of nothing. Otherwise she would have begged me to communicate with you. I am distressed that it did not occur to any of us to do so sooner. "You may depend upon us to take every care of them both. Lettice is not ill, only knocked down with over-strain, and I think with the parting also from yourself. We are ordered to keep her very quiet for a few days. If you would wish to come and see your sisters, pray do not hesitate—but Miss Anderson assures us that this is out of the question for the present. "Believe me, yours truly— "PRUDENCE VALENTINE." "So she did send a telegram, after all!" exclaimed Felix. "Why didn't it arrive, I wonder?" He was more conscious at the moment of relief than of anxiety. Nothing could be worse than the blank uncertainty he had been enduring; and he failed to realise how bad the account of Cecilia was. An impulse seized him to tell Mr. Kelly without delay; and early though the hour was, he seized his cap and hastened to the Vicarage. "Come in; pray come in; I am delighted to see you," Mr. Kelly said, rising from his solitary breakfast. "Another cup—" to the maid who had ushered the young fellow in. "Well, good news, I hope. You look like it. Sit down and have breakfast with me." "It's all right. Cecilia was taken worse on the way, and they are in a farmhouse near Reading. At least—I don't mean 'all right'—" rather confusedly—"but she is better now, and we know where they are. Yes—perfect strangers—nobody I ever heard of before. I can't think what made them do it. Would you like to see the letter?" Mr. Kelly received the sheet, smiling. Then, as his eyes fell on the handwriting, a curious expression replaced the smile. He glanced on to find the signature, and a faint flush crept slowly over his spare pale face. "It's from a Miss Valentine." "True." The flush deepened, and Mr. Kelly put up one hand, as if to shield his slight embarrassment. "True," he repeated, and he read the letter twice, with an abstracted air. "Odd! Isn't it?" said Felix. Mr. Kelly looked up, with the start of one awakened from a dream. Then he read the letter a third time, and gave it back. "I know the name," he said. "Many years ago I met a Miss Valentine—the same, undoubtedly, since her name was Prudence, and she, too, had a sister named Bertha. Besides, the home was the same. I met them elsewhere—not there—but I can recall the address. Your sisters are in good hands. This, at least, I can assure you." "Cecilia is better now, you see." "I hope so—to some extent. Yes, evidently better than when she first got there. And Lettice will be well looked after. The child needs it."