said his hostess, with
kindly good humor, and slipped away upstairs. She lighted a great wood
fire in the bedroom, and laid the bed and the blankets all round it, and
opened the window, and took the homespun linen sheets out of a press,
and made the room very tidy. Then she went down again, and the moment
Henry saw her, he said "I feel your kindness, miss, but I don't know
your name, nor where in the world I am." His hostess smiled. "That is no
secret. I'm Martha Dence--at your service: and this is Cairnhope town."

"Cairnhope!" cried Henry, and started back, so that his wooden chair
made a loud creak upon the stones of the farmer's kitchen.

Martha Dence stared, but said nothing; for almost at that moment the
doctor returned, all in a hurry, for the letter.

Henry begged him to look at it, and see if it would do.

The doctor read it. "Hum!" said he, "it is a very pretty, filial letter,
and increases my interest in you; give me your hand: there. Well, it
won't do: too shaky. If your mother once sees this, I may talk till
doomsday, she'll not believe a word. You must put off writing till
to-morrow night. Now give me her address, for I really must get home."

"She lives on the second floor, No. 13 Chettle Street."

"Her name?"

"Sir, if you ask for the lady that lodges on the second floor, you will
be sure to see her."

Dr. Amboyne looked a little surprised, and not very well pleased, at
what seemed a want of confidence. But he was a man singularly cautious
and candid in forming his judgments; so he forbore all comment, and
delivered his final instructions. "Here is a bottle containing only a
few drops of faba Ignatii in water, it is an innocent medicine, and
has sometimes a magical effect in soothing the mind and nerves. A
table-spoonful three times a day. And THIS is a sedative, which you can
take if you find yourself quite unable to sleep. But I wouldn't have
recourse to it unnecessarily; for these sedatives are uncertain in their
operation; and, when a man is turned upside down, as you have been, they
sometimes excite. Have a faint light in your bedroom. Tie a cord to the
bell-rope, and hold it in your hand all night. Fix your mind on that
cord, and keep thinking, 'This is to remind me that I am eleven
miles from Hillsborough, in a peaceful village, safe from all harm.'
To-morrow, walk up to the top of Cairnhope Peak, and inhale the glorious
breeze, and look over four counties. Write to your mother at night,