nah," said the good
lady, "to have all the trouble again of finding a young man. I think
Mr Jeffreys will do."

"I don't," said Jonah sulkily, taking up a newspaper.

Jeffreys meanwhile, in a strange frame of mind, hurried down to the
post-office. The day's adventures seemed like a dream to him as he
walked along, and poor Forrester seemed the only reality of his life.

Would there be a letter? And what news would it bring him? During the
last twelve hours a new hope and object in life had opened before him.
But what was it worth, if, after all, at this very moment Forrester
should be lying lifeless at Bolsover?

"Have you any letter for John Jeffreys?" he asked; but his heart beat so
loud that he scarcely heard his own voice.

The man, humming cheerily to himself, took a batch of letters out of a
pigeon-hole and began to turn them over. Jeffreys watched him
feverishly, and marvelled at his indifference.

"What name did you say--Jones?"

"No, Jeffreys--John Jeffreys."

Again he turned over the bundle, almost carelessly. At length he
extracted a letter, which he tossed onto the counter.

"There you are, my beauty," said he.

Jeffreys, heeding nothing except that it was addressed in Mr Frampton's
hand, seized the missive and hastened from the office.

At the first shop window he stood and tore it open.

"My dear Jeffreys,--I was glad to hear from you, although your letter
gave me great pain. It would have been wiser in you to return here,
whatever your circumstances might be; wiser still would it have been had
you never run away. But I do not write now to reproach you. You have
suffered enough, I know. I write to tell you of Forrester."

Jeffreys gave a gasp for breath before he dare read on.

"The poor fellow has made a temporary rally, but the doctors by no means
consider him out of danger. Should he recover, which I fear is hardly
probable, I grieve to say the injuries he has received would leave him a
cripple for life. There is an injury to the spine and partial
paralysis, which, at the best, would necessitate his lying constantly on
his back, and thus being dependent entirely on others. If he can bear
it, he is to be removed to his home in a day or two. He has asked about
you, and on my telling him that I was writing to you, said, `Tell him I
know it was only an accident.' I am sure that this letter will grieve
you; I wish I could say anything which will help you. May God in His
mercy