st have written to ask me to get leave for a time, as
it seems that you were expecting me shortly. I suppose you felt
that you would like me with you, for a time."

"So I should, lad, of that you may be sure, but I should not have
called you away for that. No, I had this letter the other day from
old Banks. You know he writes to me once a year. His letters have
been only gossip so far, for you know my precious cousin kicked him
out of the house, as soon as he took possession; but this is a
different matter. Read it for yourself."

Charlie took the letter, and with some trouble spelt through the
crabbed handwriting.

It began:

"Honoured sir and master, I hope that this finds you and Captain
Charles both well in health. I have been laid up with rhematis in
the bones, having less comfort in my lodgings than I used to have
at Lynnwood. Your honour will have heard that King William has
fallen from his horse, and broken his collarbone, and died. May the
Lord forgive him for taking the place of better men. Anne has come
to the throne, and there were some hopes that she would, of
herself, step aside and let him to whom the throne rightly belongs
come to it. Such, however, has not been the case, and those who
know best think that things are no forwarder for William's death,
rather indeed the reverse, since the Princess Anne is better liked
by the people than was her sister's husband.

"There is no sure news from Lynnwood. None of the old servants are
there; and I have no one from whom I can learn anything for
certain. Things however are, I hear, much worse since young Mr.
Dormay was killed in the duel in London, of which I told you in my
last letter.

"Dame Celia and Mistress Ciceley go but seldom abroad, and when
seen they smile but little, but seem sad and downcast. The usurper
has but small dealing with any of the gentry. There are always men
staying there, fellows of a kind with whom no gentleman would
consort, and they say there is much drinking and wild going on. As
Captain Charles specially bade me, I have done all that I could to
gather news of Nicholson. Till of late I have heard nothing of him.
He disappeared altogether from these parts, just after your honour
went away. News once came here from one who knew him, and who had
gone up to London on a visit to a kinsman, that he had met him
there, dressed up in a garb in no way according with his former
position, but ruffling it at a tavern frequented by loose bl