you from fretting about him, in case you would sit up and wake. And he
had a thought of me, too; for I have so pined to find out the poor young
lady, who left them years ago. She was almost as dear to me as he is;
dearer perhaps until now--when--when I am about to lose him!"

Leonard turned from the papers, without a glance at their contents: they
had no interest for him at such a moment. The hostess went on,

"Perhaps she is gone to heaven before him; she did not look like one long
for this world. She left us so suddenly. Many things of hers besides
these papers are still, here; but I keep them aired and dusted, and strew
lavender over them, in case she ever come for them again. You never
heard tell of her, did you, sir?" she added, with great simplicity, and
dropping a half courtesy.

"Of her--of whom?"

"Did not Mr. John tell you her name--dear, dear; Mrs. Bertram."

Leonard started; the very name so impressed upon his memory by Harley
L'Estrange!

"Bertram!" he repeated. "Are you sure?"

"Oh, yes, sir! And many years after she had left us, and we had heard no
more of her, there came a packet addressed to her here, from over sea,
sir. We took it in, and kept it, and John would break the seal, to know
if it would tell us anything about her; but it was all in a foreign
language like,--we could not read a word."