I shall find it.

Write what you have to say, my lady, and confide it to me.

She shall have it to-night, if she's where you suppose.

I 'll go, with your permission, and take a look at the mare.

Sussex roads are heavy in this damp weather, and the frost coming on won't improve them for a tired beast.
We haven't our rails laid down there yet.' 'You make me admit some virtues in the practical,' said Lady Dunstane; and had the poor fellow vollied forth a tale of the everlastingness of his passion for Diana, it would have touched her far less than his exact memory of Diana's description of her loved birthplace.
She wrote: 'I trust my messenger to tell you how I hang on you.