ed or erased, it was manifest enough to Felix that the original
composition was made on a rough draft. As he again read through the
four sides of the little sheet of paper, he could not refrain from
conjecturing what sort of a letter Madeline Staveley might write.
Mary Snow's letter ran as follows:--

3 Bloomfield Terrace, Peckham,
Tuesday, 10 January, 18--.

MY DEAREST FELIX,

--she had so called him for the last twelvemonth by common consent
between Graham and the very discreet lady under whose charge she at
present lived. Previously to that she had written to him as, My dear
Mr. Graham.

MY DEAREST FELIX,

I am very glad to hear that your arm and your two ribs are
getting so much better. I received your letter yesterday,
and was glad to hear that you are so comfortable in
the house of the very kind people with whom you are
staying. If I knew them I would send them my respectful
remembrances, but as I do not know them I suppose it would
not be proper. But I remember them in my prayers.--

This last assurance was inserted under the express instruction
of Mrs. Thomas, who however did not read Mary's letters, but
occasionally, on some subjects, gave her hints as to what she ought
to say. Nor was there hypocrisy in this, for under the instruction of
her excellent mentor she had prayed for the kind people.--

I hope you will be well enough to come and pay me a visit
before long, but pray do not come before you are well
enough to do so without giving yourself any pain. I am
glad to hear that you do not mean to go hunting any more,
for it seems to me to be a dangerous amusement.

And then the first paragraph came to an end.

My papa called here yesterday. He said he was very badly
off indeed, and so he looked. I did not know what to
say at first, but he asked me so much to give him some
money, that I did give him at last all that I had. It was
nineteen shillings and sixpence. Mrs. Thomas was angry,
and told me I had no right to give away your money, and
that I should not have given more than half a crown. I
hope you will not be angry with me. I do not want any more
at present. But indeed he was very bad, especially about
his shoes.

I do not know that I have any more to say except that
I put back thirty lines of Telemaque into French every
morning before breakfast. It never comes near right, but
neverthele