‘_MY DEAR SON_,’—_she had written_, ‘_I hope this finds you in perfect health as it leaves me_, _thank God_, _and your father_. _I am sorry to say that I have sad news to tell you which_, _I am afraid_, _is all too true_. _Your wife and the young man Fellows have been away together_, _living in sin at the Harley Arms_, _Redlake_. _It was madness of you_, _as I tried to tell you before_, _but you would not listen to your __mother_, _to have trusted them_, _but you only laughed me to scorn_. _Now it is an open scandal and hard for your poor father to bear_. _You can do nothing to mend it where you are_, _but be patient_, _dear George_, _and remember the word of Hebrews xii. 6_: “_Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth_.” _I wish I had not to write this_, _George_, _but I have always told you that she was a light and wicked woman_. _Still it is just as well_, _and God moves in a mysterious way_, _for when you come back you can take the children away from her_, _though do not think that you will have the Buffalo_, _even if God should take your dear father_, _for the justices would never give it to one who had been in jail_, _even for no fault of their own_. _In this way you are saved from temptation_. _This is the Lord’s doing_, _dear George_, _and it is marvellous in our eyes_. _Why did you not send for me last month_, _my son_? _I will tell you more_, _please God_, _when we meet_, _I remain_, _with fond kisses_, _Your loving mother_, ‘_ARABELLA MALPAS_.’ She sighed, sealed the envelope, and addressed it to:— ‘_GEORGE MALPAS_, ‘_NO._ 157. _COUNTY JAIL_, ‘_SHREWSBURY_.’ Then she folded her spectacles, blew out the light, and went upstairs in the dark to the room where her husband was already snoring. She crept into bed beside him and soon fell asleep in the blessed consciousness of innocence.