By-and-by Mr. Wyndham and the boys returned; and then, as the sun had nearly set, a general move was made, and the party left the beach. The Wyndhams' way led past Mrs. Reed's cottage, at the gate of which goodbyes were exchanged and Ann arranged to meet her friends on the following morning.
Mrs. Reed, who was considerably tired, went straight indoors, but Ann lingered to watch the Wyndhams out of sight, and when she entered the cottage she found her grandmother had gone upstairs to remove her bonnet and cloak. The girl hung her hat on a peg in the passage, and turned into the comfortable little parlour, where, on the table in the centre of the room, she immediately caught sight of a letter addressed to herself; her look was one of surprise as she took it up, for, though the postmark was that of her native town, the handwriting on the envelope was unknown to her.
"Whom can it be from?" she murmured, as she went to the window in order to see better, for the daylight had almost gone. "Why, it's from Dr. Elizabeth!" she exclaimed, as she opened the letter and glanced at the signature, "what can she have to say to me?" And she commenced to read:—
"MY DEAR ANN,"
"I am writing to tell you that poor Malvina Medland died this morning. She was so much worse
all last week and suffered so greatly that no one could wish her life to be prolonged. I am thankful
to say, however, that she was spared pain at the end, and passed away as quietly as if she had been
falling asleep. The night before last I was with her for some time, and she asked me to remind you
of a promise you once made her, she did not explain what it was; she said, 'Please tell Miss Ann
I rely upon her to keep her promise,' so I remind you now. No doubt you will understand what the