inted, is what I can not and
will not believe of my sister. If you knew, as I do, what a noble nature
she has, you would not be surprised at this obstinate resistance of mine
to your opinion. Will you try to alter it? I don't mind what Mr. Clare
says; he believes in nothing. But I attach a very serious importance to
what _you_ say; and, kind as I know your motives to be, it distresses me
to think you are doing Magdalen an injustice.

"Having relieved my mind of this confession, I may now come to the
proper object of my letter. I promised, if you could not find leisure
time to visit us to-day, to write and tell you all that happened after
you left us. The day has passed without our seeing you. So I open my
writing-case and perform my promise.

"I am sorry to say that three of the women-servants--the house-maid, the
kitchen-maid, and even our own maid (to whom I am sure we have always
been kind)--took advantage of your having paid them their wages to pack
up and go as soon as your back was turned. They came to say good-by with
as much ceremony and as little feeling as if they were leaving the house
under ordinary circumstances. The cook, for all her violent temper,
behaved very differently: she sent up a message to say that she would
stop and help us to the last. And Thomas (who has never yet been in any
other place than ours) spoke so gratefully of my dear father's unvarying
kindness to him, and asked so anxiously to be allowed to go on serving
us while his little savings lasted, that Magdalen and I forgot all
formal considerations and both shook hands with him. The poor lad went
out of the room crying. I wish him well; I hope he will find a kind
master and a good place.

"The long, quiet, rainy evening out-of-doors--our last evening at
Combe-Raven--was a sad trial to us. I think winter-time would have
weighed less on our spirits; the drawn curtains and the bright lamps,
and the companionable fires would have helped us. We were only five in
the house altogether--after having once been so many! I can't tell you
how dreary the gray daylight looked, toward seven o'clock, in the lonely
rooms, and on the noiseless staircase. Surely, the prejudice in favor of
long summer evenings is the prejudice of happy people? We did our best.
We kept ourselves employed, and Miss Garth helped us. The prospect of
preparing for our departure, which had seemed so dreadful earlier in the
day, altered into the prospect of a refuge from ourselv