Lady Annesley-Seton had begun, "My dear Cousin," and her frank American
way was disarming. She wrote four pages of apology for herself and her
husband, explaining why they had neglected "looking up Mrs. Nelson Smith
when she was Miss Annesley Grayle." The letter went on:

I hadn't been married long when my husband read out of some newspaper
the notice of a clergyman's death, and mentioned that he was a cousin
by marriage whom he hadn't met since boyhood, although the clergyman's
living was in our county--somewhere off at the other end.

My husband thought there was a daughter, and I remember his remarking
that we ought to write and find out if she'd been left badly off. Of
course, it was _my_ duty to have kept his idea alive, and to have
carried it out. But I was young and having such a good time that I'm
afraid it was a case of "out of sight, out of mind."

We forgot to inquire, and heard no more. It was _horrid_ of us, and I'm
sure it was _our_ loss. Probably we should have remembered if things
had gone well with us: but perhaps you know that my father (whose money
used to seem unlimited to me) lost it all, and we were mixed up in the
smash. We've been poorer than any church mice since, and trying to make
ends meet has occupied our attention from that day to this.

I have to confess that, if our attention hadn't been drawn to your
name, we might never have thought of it again. But now I've eased my
conscience, and as fate seems to have brought us within close touch, do
let us see what she means to do with us. We should so like to meet you
and Mr. Nelson Smith, who is, apparently, more or less a countryman of
mine.