e on the
letter?" said I, getting up, and going to her. "There's no name upon
it," said she, taking a letter out of her scrip, and looking at it. "It
is directed to the young man in Mumper's Dingle." "Then it is for me, I
make no doubt," said I, stretching out my hand to take it. "Please to
pay me ninepence first," said the old woman. "However," said she, after
a moment's thought, "civility is civility, and, being rather a scarce
article, should meet with some return. Here's the letter, young man, and
I hope you will pay for it; for if you do not I must pay the postage
myself." "You are the postwoman, I suppose," said I, as I took the
letter. "I am the postman's mother," said the old woman; "but as he has
a wide beat, I help him as much as I can, and I generally carry letters
to places like this, to which he is afraid to come himself." "You say
the postage is ninepence," said I, "here's a shilling." "Well, I call
that honourable," said the old woman, taking the shilling, and putting it
into her pocket--"here's your change, young man," said she, offering me
threepence. "Pray keep that for yourself," said I; "you deserve it for
your trouble." "Well, I call that genteel," said the old woman; "and as
one good turn deserves another, since you look as if you couldn't read, I
will read your letter for you. Let's see it; it's from some young woman
or other, I dare say." "Thank you," said I, "but I can read." "All the
better for you," said the old woman; "your being able to read will
frequently save you a penny, for that's the charge I generally make for
reading letters; though, as you behaved so genteelly to me, I should have
charged you nothing. Well, if you can read, why don't you open the
letter, instead of keeping it hanging between your finger and thumb?" "I
am in no hurry to open it," said I, with a sigh. The old woman looked at
me for a moment--"Well, young man," said she, "there are some--especially
those who can read--who don't like to open their letters when anybody is
by, more especially when they come from young women. Well, I won't
intrude upon you, but leave you alone with your letter. I wish it may
contain something pleasant. God bless you," and with these words she
departed.

I sat down on my stone, with my letter in my hand. I knew perfectly well
that it could have come from no other person than Isopel Berners; but
what did the letter contain? I guessed tolerably well what its purport
was