he
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--an eternal farewell! yet I was afraid to open the letter, lest my
expectation should be confirmed. There I sat with the letter, putting
off the evil moment as long as possible. At length I glanced at the
direction, which was written in a fine bold hand, and was directed, as
the old woman had said, to the young man in "Mumpers' Dingle," with the
addition, "near . . ., in the county of . . . ." Suddenly the idea
occurred to me, that, after all, the letter might not contain an eternal
farewell; and that Isopel might have written, requesting me to join her.
Could it be so? "Alas! no," presently said Foreboding. At last I became
ashamed of my weakness. The letter must be opened sooner or later. Why
not at once? So as the bather who, for a considerable time has stood
shivering on the bank, afraid to take the decisive plunge, suddenly takes
it, I tore open the letter almost before I was aware. I had no sooner
done so than a paper fell out. I examined it; it contained a lock of
bright flaxen hair. "This is no good sign," said I, as I thrust the lock
and paper into my bosom, and proceeded to read the letter, which ran as
follows:--

"TO THE YOUNG MAN IN MUMPERS' DINGLE.

"SIR,--I send these lines, with the hope and trust that they will find
you well, even as I am myself at this moment, and in much better
spirits, for my own are not such as I could wish they were, being
sometimes rather hysterical and vapourish, and at other times, and
most often, very low. I am at a sea-port, and am just going on
shipboard; and when you get these I shall be on the salt waters, on my
way to a distant country, and leaving my own behind me, which I do not
expect ever to see again.