On the very night on which little Fred found his way to Betty's cottage with his pitiful cry for help—the very night when Frank's sweet soul passed away—there came a letter for Mrs. Rayburn. Maria brought it to her.
"A letter, ma'am; and I'm sure I hope it's good news, for I can't bear to see how you fret for the poor little children."
Mrs. Rayburn looked at the writing.
"It's from no one I know," she said, laying it down beside her. She sat for some time plunged in very gloomy thoughts. The Earl and a party of friends were come to the Castle for some shooting, and they were just then at dinner. A door was opened, and she heard the sound of voices and laughter. She felt unreasonably angry that any one should laugh in the very same place where the boys had played so often so short a time ago.
The boys, the poor little dead boys—for they were dead, and she was tormenting herself foolishly imagining them in misery and suffering—they were in heaven; and well was it for them, for it was clear that neither Janet nor their father would ever be heard of in England again.
Now she felt able to read that letter, and she took it up. A strange hand, shaky and uneven. She opened it, glanced at the signature, and, uttering a low cry, fell back in her chair.
An hour later, when the guests left the dining-hall, and were heard passing along the corridors to the smoking-room, the noise roused Mrs. Rayburn, who was still sitting with the letter grasped in her hand, unread. Now, making a great effort to compose herself, she began to read it.
"Old Man's Ferry Farm, Gattigo, British Columbia.
"MY DEAR MOTHER,
"I hope you have not been frightened about me, though I have been so long without writing. I could not help it, for I have been very ill, and am still very weak, as you may see from my writing. I was in great distress at getting no letter from you, with news of my little darlings, till I remembered that I may not have given you my brother's address, for I was in such a hurry, and so distracted at parting with the children. I am with Gilbert, and Fred is here too, and we have some hope that we shall soon be settled, either here to help Gilbert and his wife, or in Gattigo in an hotel which Gilbert means to start, and we are to manage. Whichever we have to do, we can have the boys out now. I enclose a bank-bill for their expenses, and if you could possibly be spared to take my two boys to Liverpool, and put them on board the boat named in Gilbert's part of this letter, it will be very kind of you. Gilbert will send you every direction to save you trouble. We wish them to come by this boat, because Gilbert knows the captain, whose wife will be on board. Fred will meet them on landing, and bring them on here. How I long for them no words can tell, though I am sure you have made them as happy as possible, and we shall never forget your kindness to them and to us.
"Fred sends you his love. He is now quite well, and only longing to be at work in some way. While on his way to join my brother, he met an old acquaintance who had set up in business in New Durham, and who cheated him, poor fellow! out of all his money, and then ran away, leaving him to be suspected of all sorts of dishonesty. And he managed so that poor Fred could not prove his innocence, nor could my brother, though he felt quite sure of it. However, our troubles are over now, I hope, and a new life about to begin. I only want my boys to make me as happy as ever.
"Will you come out with the boys and share our work in the hotel if we go there? Perhaps you would prefer to wait until we know for certain we shall be there, or here on the farm? Whichever it is, your assistance would be very welcome. But perhaps you do not care to leave Kelmersdale, where you are so comfortable, and we feel unwilling to urge you until we are sure of our future prospects. But when we know that we are going to do well, you may be sure we shall want you to share our good fortune.
"Kiss my boys for 'muddie,' and remember that, though I cannot write as I feel, I am for ever grateful to you for taking care of them. When I feel their arms round my neck, I shall be too happy. Tell them that 'muddie' just longs for them. I must leave room for Gilbert now.
"Your affectionate daughter,
"JANET RAYBURN."
When Maria came back a little later with Mrs. Rayburn's supper, she found her lying back in her armchair insensible. The letter lay at her feet.
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