She put her hand into her breast, and
took out a letter, which she opened. She
put it into my hands. It ran thus:

'DEAR MASTER RICHARD,
'My little child is dead, and your
happiness is all I care about now. Your
marriage with me is displeasing to your
family, and I would be a burden to you,
and in your way in the fine places, and
among the great friends where you must
be. You ought, therefore, to break the
marriage, and I will sign whatever YOU
wish, or your family. I will never try
to blame you, Master Richard--do not
think it--for I never deserved your
love, and must not complain now that
I have lost it; but I will always pray
for you, and be thinking of you while
I live.'

While I read this letter, I was satisfied
that so far from adding to the poor
girl's grief, a full disclosure of what had
happened would, on the contrary, mitigate
her sorrow, and deprive it of its sharpest
sting.

'Ellen,' said I solemnly, 'Richard