“Oh, then, I see I must speak! No, dear madam, Sir Parke and my lady are not dead, nor are they any madder than they always were—saving your presence; but, since I must tell the truth lest worse be thought, they are both very angry.” “It was to be expected! But what put it in your head, kind girl, to come to me?” “Why, no one put it there—it came there naturally, my lady! What else could I do but come to you the first opportunity? Last night about eleven o’clock, John Brownloe, the Bishop of Exeter’s footman, brought a note from Mr. Oldfield to master. I saw it handed to master’s own man to be carried up. Well! soon the bell was rung for me, and I was ordered to pack up all your ladyship’s wardrobe, and have it ready to dispatch at four o’clock this morning. So I went to work and did it. Just before I strapped down the last trunk, master came in. And ‘Susan,’ says he, ‘have you strapped down all the trunks?’ ‘All but this, sir,’ says I. ‘Lift up the lid,’ says he. I did so, and he put a letter in——” “A letter! Susan, my girl, where is it?” exclaimed Lady Montressor, eagerly. “In the buff-colored trunk, my lady, which they are going to bring up presently.” “Go on.” “Well, as I was saying, dear lady, after I had packed every thing up, and looked around to see if any thing had been forgotten, lo and behold there was _myself_ that might have been left behind, if I hadn’t recollected, so I got ready with the rest of your ladyship’s effects, to be sent off. Thus at four o’clock in the morning I delivered myself along with the trunks. ‘And who are you?’ says the drayman. ‘I wasn’t hired to take no passengers, but only baggage,’ says he. ‘Very well,’ says I. ‘I’m part of her ladyship’s baggage—lend a hand and hoist me up.’ So after a little more altercation, the stupid fellow let me up, and here I am, your ladyship!” “Thank you, Susan; you——” She was here interrupted by a rap at the door. It was a couple of plow-boys, who had brought up her trunks. As soon as they were placed, and the boys had retired, Lady Montressor hastened to take the keys from Susan, and unlock one—the one indicated as containing the letter. There it lay upon the top of all the contents—she snatched it eagerly. Oh! might it bear one word of peace and pardon to her sorrow-stricken heart! She tore it open. It was an envelope, containing a check for a thousand pounds, drawn in her favor, upon the bank of Exeter. No more, not a line—not a word. With a deep sigh, Estelle laid it aside, and sank into her chair. The maid, with a tact and delicacy above her condition in life, selected from among the many rich dresses of the trousseau, a morning robe of pale gray silk—the plainest there, and laid it out for her lady’s use; and then, without words, prepared her toilet; so that Lady Montressor was ready to go below to meet the family at their nine o’clock breakfast.