od place in London,
and likes her new mistress so well. My kind respects to your sister and
her husband, and say I don't grumble about the money that's been spent
in sending you with Susan to take care of her. She was too young, poor
child, to be trusted to make the journey alone; and, as I was obliged to
stop at home and work to keep the other children, and pay back what we
borrowed for the trip, of course you were the proper person, after me,
to go with Susan--whose welfare is a more precious possession to us than
any money, I am sure. Besides, when I married you, and took you away
to Cornwall, I always promised you a trip to London to see your friends
again; and now that promise is performed. So, once again, don't fret
about the money that's been spent: I shall soon pay it back.

I've got some very strange news for you, Mary. You know how bad work
was getting at the mine, before you went away--so bad, that I thought
to myself after you had gone, "Hadn't I better try what I can do in the
fishing at Treen?" And I went there; and, thank God, have got on well
by it. I can turn my hand to most things; and the fishing has been very
good this year. So I have stuck to my work. And now I come to my news.

The landlady at the inn here, is, as you know, a sort of relation of
mine. Well, the third afternoon after you had gone, I was stopping to
say a word to her at her own door, on my way to the beach, when we saw a
young gentleman, quite a stranger, coming up to us. He looked very pale
and wild-like, I thought, when he asked for a bed; and then got faint
all of a sudden--so faint and ill, that I was obliged to lend a hand in
getting him upstairs. The next morning I heard he was worse: and it was
just the same story the morning after. He quite frightened the landlady,
he was so restless, and talked to himself in such a strange way;
specially at night. He wouldn't say what was the matter with him, or
who he was: we could only find out that he had been stopping among the
fishing people further west: and that they had not behaved very well to
him at last--more shame for them! I'm sure they could take no hurt from
the poor young fellow, let him be whom he may. Well, the end of it was
that I went and fetched the doctor for him myself, and when we got into
his room, we found him all pale and trembling, and looking at us, poor
soul, as if he thought we meant to murder him. The doctor gave his
complaint some hard names which I don't kno