"Old Rebecca? why I made her acquaintance among the shingles and cockles on the sea-shore last year—a charming old sea-nymph, or whatever you call it."
"We all have a great respect for Mrs. Mervyn, down here, in Cardyllian. The family has a great opinion of her, and they think a great deal of her, like us," said Mr. Robson, who did not care to hear any mysterious names applied to her without a protest.
"Well—so I say—so have I. I'll give her the letter, and take a receipt," said Sedley, extending his hand.
"There really is a receipt, sir, wanting," said the official, amused. "It came this morning—and if you'll come in—if it isn't too much trouble—I'll show it to you, please, sir."
In he stepped to the post-office, where Mr. Robson showed him a letter which he had that afternoon received. It said,—
"Sir,—I enclose five shillings, represented by postage-stamps, which will enable you to pay a messenger on whom you can depend, to deliver a letter which I place along with this in the post-office, into the hand of Mrs. Mervyn, Steward's House, Malory, Cardyllian, to whom it is addressed, and which is marked with the letter D at the left-hand corner.
"I am, sir,
"Your obt. servant,
"J. Dingwell."
"The letter is come," said Mr. Robson, taking it out of a pigeon-hole in a drawer, and thumbing it, and smiling on it with a gentle curiosity.
"Yes—that's it," said Tom Sedley, also reading the address. "'Mrs. Mervyn'—what a queer old ghost of a lady she is—'Malory,' that's the ground—and the letter D in the corner. Well, I'm quite serious. I'll take the letter with pleasure, and see the old woman, and put it into her hand. I'm not joking, and I shall be back again in an hour, I dare say, and I'll tell you what she says, and how she looks—that is, assuming it is a love-letter."
"Well, sir, as you wish it; and it's very kind of you, and the old lady must sign a receipt, for the letter's registered—but it's too much trouble for you, sir, isn't it really?"
"Nonsense; give me the letter. If you won't, I can't help it."