"He sought me out to relieve my wants. And upon my telling him that all I wanted was to go home to die, he bought me a whole state-room to myself in the first cabin of the 'Golden City,' bound from San Francisco to New York. And then he bought me an outfit in clothing, good enough for a duke's widow. And he gave me a sum of money besides, and started me fairly and comfortably on my voyage.
"I reached New York three days ago. But my strength continues to fail and my funds to waste. I have no power to work, even if I could procure anything to do. And I have not money enough to support me a month longer.
"I do not like to go into an alms-house. Yet what am I to do?
"But why do I write to you? you may naturally inquire.
"Why? Because, although a perfect stranger, you are, after all, my niece, my only sister's only child, my own only blood relation. And 'blood is thicker than water.'
"'I can not work; to beg I am ashamed.'
"I do not, therefore, beg, even of you. I do not so much as make any suggestion to you. I tell you the facts of the case, and I leave you to act upon them, or to ignore them entirely, at your pleasure.
"I do not even know whether I may venture to sign myself your aunt,
Katherine Fanning."
Emma Cavendish read this letter through to the end; then she glanced at her companions, who were still all absorbed in the perusal of their journals.