"I received a short time back some news from India, which, I think, will interest you. It appears that Major Semberry, through financial difficulties, has been obliged to resign his commission. Reports say he has gone to Chili, with the intention of there entering the service of the Republic. It is to be hoped, whether he does this or no that he will take his lesson to heart, and endeavour to mend his ways even at this somewhat tardy stage in his career. You, Priscilla, with your usual acuteness, were perfectly correct in your reading of his character. He is a thoroughly bad man; and he never did a worse thing than when he conspired to ruin the life of our poor, dear Olive. It just shows how far beneath the standard of honour and moral rectitude it is possible for a gentleman to fall. "There is still one other, and a most extraordinary circumstance, in connection with the conspiracy, that I must tell you. A week ago, Mr. Mallow received a visit from Clara Boldini. She told him that her husband had gambled away every penny of the money with which they decamped. Is it not terrible to think of such depravity? Imagine a young man like that squandering thirty thousand pounds in twelve months in gambling. And not only did the wretched fellow lose his money, but his life. It appears that, directed by the terrible creature whom they call Madame Death-in-Life, two of her followers tracked Boldini to Lima, in Peru, and shot him one night in a gambling den. Their efforts to obtain the tangible fruits of his wickedness were frustrated, of course, through his having squandered them. In their fury at thus being baulked of their spoil, they determined to kill this unhappy Clara. She, however, managed to receive timely warning, and escaped to England. She looks old, and worn, and poor; and seems possessed with the idea that she must ultimately be killed by these ruffians. Mr. Mallow and Olive tried all they could to induce her to remain safe at Casterwell; but she would not, because she said she could not bring more trouble upon them. That was good of the girl, I think. She visited her uncle's grave, and wept bitterly over it. Mr. Mallow did not tell her that her father, too, was buried close by, and I think he was right. It is best that this sad story should pass into oblivion. Clara remained only one night here. She then returned to London. But, before she left, she gave to Olive the famous Indian bangle, which she had removed from the dead body of her husband when he met his death in Lima. Olive keeps it as a curiosity; though she does not need anything to remind her of the troublous times with which it is connected. Where Clara is now we none of us know. We can only hope she will be spared any such violent death as she fears, and that, indeed, some amount of peace may be vouchsafed to her after the stormy life which she has led. How truly thankful should we be, my dear Priscilla, that Providence has cast our lot in pastures so peaceful