t, no--Miss C. has learnt Perseverance in
the School of Adversity. Her object in writing is to know whether Mr.
Blake (who prohibits everything else) prohibits the appearance of the
present correspondence in Miss Clack's narrative? Some explanation of
the position in which Mr. Blake's interference has placed her as an
authoress, seems due on the ground of common justice. And Miss Clack, on
her side, is most anxious that her letters should be produced to speak
for themselves."

(6.) "Mr. Franklin Blake agrees to Miss Clack's proposal, on the
understanding that she will kindly consider this intimation of his
consent as closing the correspondence between them."

(7.) "Miss Clack feels it an act of Christian duty (before the
correspondence closes) to inform Mr. Franklin Blake that his last
letter--evidently intended to offend her--has not succeeded in
accomplishing the object of the writer. She affectionately requests Mr.
Blake to retire to the privacy of his own room, and to consider with
himself whether the training which can thus elevate a poor weak woman
above the reach of insult, be not worthy of greater admiration than he
is now disposed to feel for it. On being favoured with an intimation to
that effect, Miss C. solemnly pledges herself to send back the complete
series of her Extracts to Mr. Franklin Blake."

[To this letter no answer was received. Comment is needless.

(Signed) DRUSILLA CLACK.]

CHAPTER VII

The foregoing correspondence will sufficiently explain why no choice
is left to me but to pass over Lady Verinder's death with the simple
announcement of the fact which ends my fifth chapter.

Keeping myself for the future strictly within the limits of my own
personal experience, I have next to relate that a month elapsed from the
time of my aunt's decease before Rachel Verinder and I met again. That
meeting was the occasion of my spending a few days under the same roof
with her. In the course of my visit, something happened, relative to
her marriage-engagement with Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite, which is important
enough to require special notice in these pages. When this last of
many painful family circumstances has been disclosed, my task will be
completed; for I shall then have told all that I know, as an actual (and
most unwilling) witness of events.

My aunt's remains were removed from London, and were buried in the
little cemetery attached to the church in her own park. I was invited to
the funera