"Your daughter, in the excellence of her heart, would not, perhaps, desire to rouse your anxieties by mentioning her indisposition, but we felt it incumbent upon us, in whose charge she lies, to inform her relatives, and, above all, her devoted mother.
"With affectuous regards,
"Yours respectably,
"THÉRÈSE LOIRÉ."
"There!" exclaimed the writer in conclusion. "Do you not think that is a fine letter?"
Her sister shrugged her shoulders.
"Probably it is, but you forget I cannot understand English. But pray do not trouble to translate it," she added hastily; "I quite believe it is all that you say."
"Yes, you may believe that," and Mademoiselle Thérèse closed the envelope. "I think it will make an impression."
In that belief she was perfectly right, and perhaps it was a fortunate thing that Aunt Anne was there to help to remove the impression; for, that lady having already had Denys Morton's letter, was prepared for this one, and was glad she had been able to tell the news in her own way to her sister-in-law the day before.
"Don't look so scared, Lucy," she said. "I don't suppose there is anything much amiss, though I shall just pack up and go at once. What an irritating woman this must be—quite enough to make any one ill if she talks as she writes."
With characteristic promptitude Miss Britton began to make her preparations immediately, and only halted over them once, and that was when she hesitated about packing a dress that had just come home, which she said was ridiculously young for her.
"It will get very crushed," she muttered discontentedly. "But then—— Oh, well, I might as well put it in," and in it went. Mrs. Britton hovered anxiously about her, and watched her proceedings wistfully.
"You don't think I should go too, do you, Anne?" she asked.