mbrance, about which I am now chattering to Mrs. Esmond.

"Her ladyship has been staying here, and another relative of yours, the
Baroness of Bernstein, and the two ladies are both gone on to Tunbridge
Wells; but another and dearer relative still remains in my house, and
is sound asleep, I trust, in the very next room, and the name of this
gentleman is Mr. Henry Esmond Warrington. Now, do you understand how you
come to hear from an old friend? Do not be alarmed, dear madam! I know
you are thinking at this moment, 'My boy is ill. That is why Miss Molly
Benson writes to me.' No, my dear; Mr. Warrington was ill yesterday, but
to-day he is very comfortable; and our doctor, who is no less a person
than my dear husband, Colonel Lambert, has blooded him, has set his
shoulder, which was dislocated, and pronounces that in two days more Mr.
Warrington will be quite ready to take the road.

"I fear I and my girls are sorry that he is so soon to be well.
Yesterday evening, as we were at tea, there came a great ringing at our
gate, which disturbed us all, as the bell very seldom sounds in this
quiet place, unless a passing beggar pulls it for charity; and the
servants, running out, returned with the news, that a young gentleman,
who had a fall from his horse, was lying lifeless on the road,
surrounded by the friends in whose company he was travelling. At this,
my Colonel (who is sure the most Samaritan of men!) hastens away, to see
how he can serve the fallen traveller, and presently, with the aid of
the servants, and followed by two ladies, brings into the house such
a pale, lifeless, beautiful, young man! Ah, my dear, how I rejoice to
think that your child has found shelter and succour under my roof! that
my husband has saved him from pain and fever, and has been the means of
restoring him to you and health! We shall be friends again now, shall we
not? I was very ill last year, and 'twas even thought I should die. Do
you know, that I often thought of you then, and how you had parted from
me in anger so many years ago? I began then a foolish note to you, which
I was too sick to finish, to tell you that if I went the way appointed
for us all, I should wish to leave the world in charity with every
single being I had known in it.

"Your cousin, the Right Honourable Lady Maria Esmond, showed a great
deal of maternal tenderness and concern for her young kinsman after his
accident. I am sure she hath a kind heart. The Baroness de Bernst