Before breakfast was over, Billy Byles appeared, congratulating me upon my recovery, which might be considered complete; and telling us that Mr. Hubbard and Mr. Thornton and Lucy, and perhaps one of the other girls, would be over in half-an-hour with a budget of news and some papers on business. We easily conceived his object in preceding them; and Bessy laughed at him a little, and told Mrs. Stringer she had better have dinner ready for a large party, as it was clear, from Mr. Byles's manner, that their friends were going to stay all day and he with them. So it proved; and, what between reading over and signing the deed of gift to Bessy Davenport, and a dozen other matters of no importance, I had not one single moment to speak a word to Bessy during the whole day. She knew not that I was somewhat fretting with impatience; and, full of life and spirit, and gay good humour, she gave way to everything that was proposed in the way of amusement. At length, towards evening, our friends departed; but Bessy and I were not left alone; and I knew that my object was hopeless for the rest of that day, as Bessy would retire when Mrs. Stringer did. The next day Mr. Stringer and his sons were to return; and I saw no resource but to make an opportunity, if I could not find one. We had just had some coffee, and I was asking Bessy to sing, when the man-servant, Henry, came in with a packet in his hand which he gave to Miss Davenport, saying,-- "Mr. Robert Thornton sends his compliments, Miss Bessy, and says he has found a number of old letters and papers of importance which belong to you, and therefore he has sent them to you." "They can't be very valuable," said Bessy, "or he would not have sent them. Let us see what they are." And, sitting down at the table by the lamp, she opened the packet. Its contents seemed entirely to consist of letters, yellow with age, and somewhat stained with damp. They were all neatly folded, and docketed with what I supposed to be an abstract of the contents of each. The first two or three Bessy turned over carelessly, after looking at what was written on the back; but then she came to one which seemed to interest her more; and, opening it, she read it through with a straining eye. The next had still more effect; for I could see her give a start when she read the docket, and her hands trembled violently as she opened the paper. She had not read above ten lines, when, suddenly gathering all the papers together, she started up and ran out of the room. She was evidently terribly affected, how or why, of course I could not tell; but my uncertainty was soon removed by Mrs. Stringer, who had been sitting near her fair guest, and who, with a curiosity which cynics would say was natural to women, had taken a glance from time to time at the papers which lay before Miss Davenport. "That hateful man, Robert Thornton," she said, "will never miss a chance of giving pain. Only think of his sending those letters to poor Bessy."