Letitia wrote her letter, not to Mary but Agnes--though she had a much stronger aversion to Agnes than to her sister. It was short, guarded, telling merely the fact of Mar’s illness, that it was very serious, that he was attended by two trained hospital nurses and under the special care of Dr. Barker, and that everything was done that could be done for him. She added no invitation. “The doctor wishes me to write,” she said, “as he thinks it very serious--and if anything further happens I will let you know. Of course you will use your discretion as to whether you communicate this to Mary or not. Probably she will not mind much--which will save her a great deal of grief, poor soul, in case things should turn out badly. He seems to have caught this fever the day you went away in such a hurry. He deserted us all and strolled off by himself into the park, and wore himself out. You will know best whether you said anything to the boy to upset him. He stopped tired at the houses at the Westgate, and asked for some water which was given him from their well. Dr. Barker says this is quite enough to account for it. It is a relief to me amidst all our trouble that he did not get it from anything in my house.” And she ended by repeating her promise to write again if there was “any change.” Letitia felt that she could now say “my house” without hesitation. It was as good as her house now--her great restlessness was calmed down. She went on and wrote a number of letters telling the sad circumstances to her habitual correspondents, whom she informed that her poor young nephew Lord Frogmore was lying dying, with a great deal of emotion. She wrote very affectionately of Mar. It was easy now to say that he was a dear boy, though always very delicate, never able to do the things that the other boys did. “But he has twined himself very much round all our hearts,” wrote Letitia, “and I don’t know how to console the children who adore him.” She could say this without anger or any vivid feeling in the certainty that Mar was going to die. For the first time since she had known she completely approved of Mar. It was a sad thing, no doubt, but it was for the best. He never could have been able to enjoy life--the best that could have been looked for for him would have been an invalid existence, never to be depended upon: and he was such a good boy, so well prepared, looking forward to his release with such resignation and piety. Letitia almost made herself cry, she gave such a touching account of Mar. When she completed those letters she felt more calm than she had done for many a day. The feeling of suspense was gone. The doctor she felt assured would never have said so much if there had been any hope left. And now she could permit herself to entertain these thoughts which had visited her at intervals for years, and which she had not permitted to dwell in her mind, thoughts captivating and attractive, of all the changes she would make and all