On a certain morning two or three days after the conversation just recorded it was past ten when he brought two letters to the door, one for Mrs.Trevelyan, and one for Mrs.
Stanbury.

The ladies had finished their breakfast, and were seated together at an open window.

As was usual, the letters were given into Priscilla's hands, and the newspaper which accompanied them into those of Mrs.Trevelyan, its undoubted owner.

When her letter was handed to her, she looked at the address closely and then walked away with it into her own room.
"I think it's from Louis," said Nora, as soon as the door was closed.
"If so, he is telling her to come back." "Mamma, this is for you," said Priscilla.

"It is from Aunt Stanbury.
I know her handwriting." "From your aunt?
What can she be writing about?
There is something wrong with Dorothy." Mrs.Stanbury held the letter but did not open it.