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