At night she slept well, and Mr.Carling's faith in the medical man revived again.
The morning after was the morning which would bring the answer from the publisher in London.

The rector's study was on the ground floor, and when he heard the postman's knock, being especially anxious that morning about his correspondence, he went out into the hall to receive his letters the moment they were put on the table.
It was not the footman who had answered the door, as usual, but Mrs.
Carling's maid.

She had taken the letters from the postman, and she was going away with them upstairs.
He stopped her, and asked her why she did not put the letters on the hall table as usual.

The maid, looking very much confused, said that her mistress had desired that whatever the postman had brought that morning should be carried up to her room.

He took the letters abruptly from the girl, without asking any more questions, and went back into his study.
Up to this time no shadow of a suspicion had fallen on his mind.
Hitherto there had been a simple obvious explanation for every unusual event that had occurred during the last three or four days; but this last circumstance in connection with the letters was not to be accounted for.