Sir Lukin Dunstane upon the report
of the triumph of surgical skill achieved by Sir William Macpherson and
Mr. Lanyan Thomson, was one from Lady Wathin, dated Adlands, an estate
of Mr. Quintin Manx's in Warwickshire, petitioning for the shortest line
of reassurance as to the condition of her dear cousin, and an intimation
of the period when it might be deemed possible for a relative to call
and offer her sincere congratulations: a letter deserving a personal
reply, one would suppose. She received the following, in a succinct
female hand corresponding to its terseness; every 't' righteously
crossed, every 'i' punctiliously dotted, as she remarked to Constance
Asper, to whom the communication was transferred for perusal:

'DEAR LADY WATHIN,--Lady Dunstane is gaining strength. The measure
of her pulse indicates favourably. She shall be informed in good
time of your solicitude for her recovery. The day cannot yet be
named for visits of any kind. You will receive information as soon
as the house is open.

'I have undertaken the task of correspondence, and beg you to
believe me,

'Very truly yours,
'D. A. WARWICK.'

Miss Asper speculated on the handwriting of her rival. She obtained
permission to keep the letter, with the intention of transmitting it per
post to an advertising interpreter of character in caligraphy.

Such was the character of the fair young heiress, exhibited by her
performances much more patently than the run of a quill would reveal it.

She said, 'It is rather a pretty hand, I think.'

'Mrs. Warwick is a practised writer,' said Lady Wathin. 'Writing is her
profession, if she has any. She goes to nurse my cousin. Her husband
says she is an excellent nurse. He says what he can for her. But you
must be in the last extremity, or she is ice. His appeal to her has been
totally disregarded. Until he drops down in the street, as his doctor
expects him to do some day, she will continue her course; and even
then...' An adventuress desiring her freedom! Lady Wathin looked. She
was too devout a woman to say what she thought. But she knew the world
to be very wicked. Of Mrs. Warwick, her opinion was formed. She would
not have charged the individual creature with a criminal design; all she
did was to stuff the person her virtue abhorred with the wickedness of
the world, and that is a common process in antipathy.

She sympathized, moreover, with the beautif