‘Yes. I saw him yesterday,’ and as she gazed as if the news were water to a thirsty soul—‘he sent his love, and begged his mother and you to forgive the distress his precipitancy has caused. I did not think him looking ill; indeed, I think the quiet of his cell is almost a rest to him, as he makes sure that he can clear himself.’
‘Oh, Sir Jasper! how can we ever be grateful enough!’
‘Never mind that now, only tell me what is needful, for time is short. Your brother sent these notes in their own envelope, he says.’
‘Yes, a very dirty one. I did not open it or see them, but enclosed it in one of my own, and sent it by my youngest brother, Petros.’
‘How was yours addressed?’
‘Francis Stebbing, Esq., Marble Works; and I put in a note in explanation.’
‘Is the son’s name likewise Francis?’
‘Francis James.’
‘Petros delivered it?’
‘Yes, certainly.’