I was preparing to take my leave when she spoke, though not without considerable hesitation:-- "This letter is from Mr.Welbeck--you are his friend--I presume--perhaps--a relation ?" I was conscious that I had no claim to either of these titles, and that I was no more than his servant.

My pride would not allow me to acknowledge this, and I merely said, "I live with him at present, madam." I imagined that this answer did not perfectly satisfy her; yet she received it with a certain air of acquiescence.

She was silent for a few minutes, and then, rising, said, "Excuse me, sir, for a few minutes.

I will write a few words to Mr.Welbeck." So saying, she withdrew.
I returned to the contemplation of the picture.

From this, however, my attention was quickly diverted by a paper that lay on the mantel.