“I wonder,” said he in a low Voice, as if he were almost afraid to hear the Echo of his own Thoughts, “whether she would now have Anything to say to me?”
I said, looking away from him, “Such Questions as that should only be put to the Parties concerned.”
“You are right,” said he; and sat a long While silent, leaning his Head upon his Hand. At length, he said, “I am rich now, and she is poor, Cherry.”
I said, “Riches and Poverty don’t make much Difference, Mark, when People really love one another.”
“As I have loved—” said he.
I said, “It is Bed-time now, and here is Dolly coming in to Prayers.”
The next Morning, he said he must go to the Lord Mayor about his House. For the abandoned Effects of such Families as were entirely swept away and left no known Heirs, went to the King, who made them over to the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, to be applied to the Use of the Poor; and Mark’s Absence had made it appear that his Property was in that Case.
Soon after he was gone, the uncommon, and, I may almost say, unparalleled Event occurred to me of receiving a Letter; I was so surprised at the Circumstance, that for the Moment, I thought it must be from my Father; or, at least, to tell me he was alive. But no, it was from Master Blower; and this was what he put in it:
“Bucklands Hall, Berks.