CHAPTER IV. HIS STORY.
My dear Theodora:—
This is a line extra, written on receipt of yours, which was most welcome. I feared something had gone wrong with my little methodical girl.
Do not keep strictly to your Dominical letter just now—write any day that you can. Tell me everything that is happening to you—you must, and ought. Nothing must occur to you or yours that I do not know. You are mine.
Your last letter I do not answer in detail till the next shall come: not exactly from press of business; I would make time if I had it not; but from various other reasons, which you shall have by-and-by.
Give me, if you remember it, the address of the person with whom Sarah Enfield is lodging. I suspect she is a woman of whom, by the desire of her nearest relative, I have been in search of for some time. But, should you have forgotten, do not trouble your sister about this. I will find out all I wish to learn some other way. Never apologise for, or hesitate at, writing to me about your family—all that is yours is mine. Keep your heart up about your sister Penelope: she is a good woman, and all that befals her will be for her good. Love her, and be patient with her continually. All your love for her and the rest takes nothing from what is mine, but adds thereto.
Let me hear soon what is passing at Rockmount. I cannot come to you, and help you—would I could! My love! my love!
Max Urquhart.
There is little or nothing to say of myself this week, and what there was you heard yesterday.