"Only on Sunday last, when I happened to speak to our minister, after the morning service, I got a slight clew to you; for he told me that you had asked him for a church letter to the Rector of St. John's Parish in Richmond.
"That information gives me the opportunity of writing to you, with some prospect of having my letter reach you, for I can inclose it to the Rector of St. John's, who will probably by this time know your address.
"And now, having explained how it is that I am enabled to write to you, I must tell you the news.
"The great nuisance of the Commencement is abated. It is all over; the students, the visitors and the vagrants have nearly all gone, and the town is empty and—peaceful.
"One set of visitors I lamented to lose. They went on Saturday.
"I mean, of course, your friends from Blue Cliffs. They were all charming.
"I was very much interested in Miss Cavendish.
"And now, my dear child, although I am no gossip and no meddler, as you are well aware, I really must tell you what I would not tell to any other living being, and which I tell you only because I know you to be perfectly discreet, and also deeply interested in the parties of whom I shall take the liberty of writing.
"There are three marriages in prospect, my dear. I see it quite plainly. Our young people are the frankest and most innocent of human beings. They have no disguises.
"Who are to be married? you ask me.