health." We went upstairs--such
stair-carpets! I was almost frightened to step on them, after walking
through the dirty streets. The housekeeper opened a door, and said a few
words inside, which I could not hear, and then let me in where the young
lady was.

Oh, William! she had the sweetest, kindest face I ever saw in my life.
But it was so pale, and there was such a sad look in her eyes when she
asked me to sit down, that it went to my heart, when I thought of the
news I had to tell her. I couldn't speak just at first; and I suppose
she thought I was in some trouble--for she begged me not to tell her
what I wanted, till I was better. She said it with such a voice and
such a look, that, like a great fool, I burst out crying, instead of
answering as I ought. But it did me good, though, and made me able to
tell her about her brother (breaking it as gently as I could) before I
gave her the doctor's letter. She never opened it; but stood up before
me as if she was turned to stone--not able to cry, or speak, or move. It
frightened me so, to see her in such a dreadful state, that I forgot all
about the grand house, and the difference there was between us; and took
her in my arms, making her sit down on the sofa by me--just as I should
do, if I was consoling our own Susan under some great trouble. Well!
I soon made her look more like herself, comforting her in every way I
could think of: and she laid her poor head on my shoulder, and I took
and kissed her, (not remembering a bit about its being a born lady and
a stranger that I was kissing); and the tears came at last, and did her
good. As soon as she could speak, she thanked God her brother was found,
and had fallen into kind hands. She hadn't courage to read the doctor's
letter herself, and asked me to do it. Though he gave a very bad account
of the young gentleman, he said that care and nursing, and getting him
away from a strange place to his own home and among his friends, might
do wonders for him yet. When I came to this part of the letter, she
started up, and asked me to give it to her. Then she inquired when I was
going back to Cornwall; and I said, "as soon as possible," (for indeed,
it's time I was home, William). "Wait; pray wait till I have shown this
letter to my father!" says she. And she ran out of the room with it in
her hand.

After some time, she came back with her face all of a flush, like;
looking quite different to what she did before, and saying that I