The day was already beginning to dawn as Mary sat down to answer Lady Dorothea's letter. Most of her reply referred to her uncle, to whose affection she clung all the more as her fortunes darkened. She saw all the embarrassment of proffering her services to nurse and tend him, living, as he was, amidst his own; but still, she said that of the journey or its difficulties she should never waste a thought, if her presence at his sick-bed could afford him the slightest satisfaction. “He knows me as a nurse already,” said she. “But tell him that I have grown, if not wiser, calmer and quieter than he knew me formerly; that I should not disturb him by foolish stories, but sit patiently save when he would have me to talk. Tell him, too, that if changed in many things, in my love to_ him_ I am unaltered.” She tried to add more, but could not. The thought that these lines were to be read to her uncle by Lady Dorothea chilled her, and the very tones of that supercilious voice seemed to ring in her ears, and she imagined some haughty or insolent comment to follow them as they were uttered. With regard to her own future, she, in a few words, remarked upon the unnecessary expense of maintaining a large house for the accommodation of a single person, and said that, if her Ladyship concurred in the plan, she would prefer taking up her home at the Chalet with old Catty for companion and housekeeper. She pointed out the advantages of a change which, while securing a comfortable home to them, would equally suggest to their dependants lessons of thrift and self-sacrifice, and added, half sportively, “As for me, when I find myself _en Suisse_, I 'm sure I shall less regret horses and dogs, and such-like vanities, and take to the delights of a dairy and cream cheeses with a good grace. Indeed, I 'm not quite certain but that Fortune, instead of displacing, will in reality be only installing me in the position best suited to me. Do not, then, be surprised, if at your return you find me in sabots and an embroidered bodice, deep in the mystery of all cottage economics, and well content to be so.