WYLDER'S HAJVD.
145
"No, Stanley; no, thank you. I'm very well now,"
she said, gently.
"Yes, I think so. I knew you'd be better." And
he patted her shoulder with his soft hand; and then fol-
lowed a short silence.
"I wish you were more pleasantly lodged, Eadie; but
we can speak of that another time."
"Yes — you're right. This place is dreadful, and its
darkness dreadful; but light is still more dreadful now.
and I think I'll change; but, as you say, there is time
enough to think of all that."
"Quite so — time enough. By-the-by, Radie, you
mentioned our old servant, whom my father thought so
highly of — Jim Dutton — the other evening. I've been
thinking of him, do you know, and I should like to find
him out. He was a very honest fellow, and attached, and a
clever fellow, too, my father thought; and he was a good
judge. Hadn't you a letter from his mother lately?
You told me so, I think; and if it is not too much trouble,
dear Radie, would you allow me to see it?"
Rachel opened her desk, and silently selected one of
those clumsy and original missives, directed in a stagger-
ing, round hand, on paper oddly shaped and thick, such
as mixes not naturally with the aristocratic fabric, on
which crests and ciphers are impressed, and placed it in
her brother's hand:
"But you can't read it without light," said Rachel.
"No; but there's no hurry. Does she say where she
is staying, or her son?"
"Both, I think," answered Rachel, languidly; ''but
he'll never make a servant for you — he's a rough crea-
ture, she says, and was a groom. You can't remember
him, nor I either."
"Perhaps — very likely;" and he pat the letter in nir
pocket. f