he coughs terribly. I rarely hear him sing as he
used to. Then Squire Clamp has complained of him before the church,
and you know father is over-sensitive about his relations with 'the
brethren,'--even with those who are trying to ruin him. He is
melancholy enough. I hope he will be better, if he gets through his
difficulties; otherwise I am afraid to think of what may happen.

"You wonder, probably, at not getting a letter from Mildred. Don't be
surprised when I tell you that she has left home and is staying at Mr.
Alford's. Mrs. Kinloch has for a long time wanted her to marry that
hateful Hugh Branning, and became so violent about it that Mildred was
afraid of her. Lucy Ransom, who lived there, ran away a short time
ago, very mysteriously. It seems that the girl had stolen something
from the house, and, after Mildred had plumply refused to marry Hugh,
Mrs. Kinloch charged upon her that she had induced Lucy to steal the
papers or money, or whatever it was. Mrs. Kinloch acted so like an
insane woman, that Mildred would not stay in the house, but ran over
to Mr. Alford's, with only the clothes she wore. She passed by our
house yesterday and told me this hurriedly. I have heard, too, that
Squire Clamp is about to marry Mrs. Kinloch, and that he actually has
procured the license. It's a very strange affair.

"To fill out the account of disagreeable things,--last evening, in one
of the stores, people were talking of Lucy Ransom's fate, (as they
have been for weeks,) when Will Fenton, the cripple, said, 'he guessed
Hugh Branning could tell what had become of her, if he chose.' Hugh,
it seems, heard of the remark, and to-day he went with a dandyish
doctor, belonging to the navy, I believe, and beat the poor cripple
with a horsewhip, most shamefully. I think this violence has turned
suspicion against him.

"I am sorry not to have one pleasant thing to say, except that we all
love you as warmly as ever, and hope to see you soon here. Indeed,
Cousin Mark, I dread to write it,--but if you don't come soon, I think
you will see father only on his last bed.

"Good-bye, dear Mark!
Your Cousin,--LIZZIE."

We will waste no time in attempting to analyze Mark's conflicting
emotions, but follow him to Innisfield, whither he went the same day.
Great as was his desire to see his betrothed, from whom he had
received no letter for many weeks, he went first of all, where duty
and affection called, to see the dear old man