She wants a hiding-place for her
misfortune, and somewhere to go when it is over. Nobody, she says,
will have anything to do with her where they know; and, really, I have
noticed for a long time how white and wretched she looks, with great
black frightened eyes. I don't like to apply to our Rector, for though
he is a good fellow in many ways, he has such strong opinions; and, of
course, Horace could do nothing. I would like to do something for her,
and I could spare a little money, but I can't find a place for her to
go, and that makes it difficult. She seems to be haunted, too, by the
idea that wherever she goes it will come out. Isn't it dreadful? Do do
something, if you can. I am rather anxious about George. I hope the dear
boy is well. If you are passing his club some day you might look in and
just ask after him. He is sometimes so naughty about writing. I wish
we could see you here, dear Grig; the country is looking beautiful just
now--the oak-trees especially--and the apple-blossom isn't over, but I
suppose you are too busy. How is Helen Bellew? Is she in town?
"Your affectionate cousin,
"MARGERY PENDYCE."
It was four o'clock this same afternoon when the second groom, very much
out of breath, informed the butler that there was a fire at Peacock's
farm. The butler repaired at once to the library.
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