Eudora took the letter, and read:
Dear, Kind Friends:—When these lines shall meet your eyes, the poor girl that you have befriended will be far away from London. But do not think that she is ungrateful because she is forced to leave you; forced to leave you for your own sakes as well as for her own. She cannot consent to become a pauper, to be disposed of by the parish officers in any manner which they may think proper. And she cannot remain a burthen upon good Mrs. Corder, or dear Miss Miller. She longs for freedom and independence, and pines for the country and the open air. She has not a relation in the world upon whom she has any claim. But that you may not be uneasy about her, know that she is gone to seek her fortune in the north of England. There she has a possible friend in the daughter of her mother’s nurse, the foster-sister of her mother, Tabitha Tabs, who lives as ladies’-maid at a place called Allworth Abbey, somewhere in the county of C——. For her mother’s sake, this Tabitha may help her to some good place in the country, where she will be willing to work very hard, so that she can only see the green fields, breathe the fresh air, and feel herself a free girl. And so, dear friends, pray feel no anxiety for her welfare. But believe, that He who fed the young ravens will care for her, who will always remember your kindness with the warmest gratitude while her name is
“Annella.”
When Eudora, in reading this letter, met the name of Allworth Abbey, a deadly terror came over her. She felt all the extreme danger that threatened herself in the journey of this unsuspicious girl. She could scarcely command herself sufficiently to read the letter to its close. And when she had finished the perusal, the paper fluttered and dropped from her hand, and she sank back half-fainting in her chair.
The landlady perceived her emotion, but ascribed it wholly to sympathy with the misguided fugitive. She picked up the letter, and smoothing it out, began to look at it again, saying:
“Did ever any human creature hear of such a mad act? For to go and leave well-known friends to seek her fortin’ among total strangers; and without any north star to steer by, as one may say, but a ladies’-maid somewhere in the North of England. Stay. Where did she say the maid was at service?”
“At a place called Allworth Abbey,” faltered Eudora, with as indifferent an air as she could assume.
“Allworth Abbey? Allworth Abbey? Sure I have heard that name somewhere lately, and heard no good of it neither,” said the landlady meditatively.
Then with a sudden flash of memory lighting up her face, she exclaimed:
“Why, it’s the very place where that wicked young girl poisoned all her relations! Lawk! to think that she should be going there! But she couldn’t ha’ read the Times, or heard o’ what’s happened in that family, or she never would be going there.”