"Loveday, I have something here which belongs to you," said she. As she spoke, she produced a packet of some size from her pocket, and with a great throb, I recognized my uncle's handwriting on the outside.
"These are letters from your uncle and his family, which have come from time to time for the last six or seven years," said she. "There is no reason now why you should not have them."
"And why did I not have them before?" was the hot question which rose to my lips. The habit of discipline was strong within me, and I did not ask it; but the prioress answered as if I had spoken.
"Why were they not given to you? Because it was not thought best. It was the desire of my Lady Peckham, who was your legal guardian, that you should make this house your home, and be professed here. We saw that every letter you had from your uncle's family disturbed your mind and made you homesick," (that was true enough), "and therefore we thought it best to break off all such intercourse. My child, I see that you are thinking this very hard, but you must remember that any parent would have exercised the same right over a daughter's letters. Were it to do again, I might act differently. I see many things in a different light from what I did when you first came here. Here are your letters. You may learn from them something about the present state of your uncle's family, though I think the last is two years old."
I need not say how eagerly I received the letters, and how I devoured them. They were written at different times, and all contained assurances of undying regard from my uncle and aunt, with complaints of my silence. The latest was from my uncle, and had been written from a town in Holland, whither the family had removed. My uncle seemed to be in a lively vein, for he recalled various incidents of my stay in the family; at the close, were these words:
"Do you remember the odd experiments I once showed you with chemicals, whereby Sambo was so scared? You know there was one in invisible ink, which the good fellow thought was witchcraft."
A sudden notion flashed across me, which made me gather up all my precious papers, and hasten to the kitchen. A great fire was burning in the fireplace, and the room was empty, for dinner had long been over. Quickly, I held the last dated letter to the hot coals, and as I had half expected, I saw lines of brown writing appear between the black. I read as follows:
"I have sure intelligence that within a year or two at furthest, the religious houses in England will be forced to surrender. Should such a thing happen, do you make your way to London, to the house where I used to live. Master John Davis and his wife will care for you, and put you in the way of hearing from or coming to me. My Lady Peckham being now dead, there will be no one to interfere with you."
How welcome were these lines! I had been wondering what would become of me, and here was a home provided, if I could but make shift to reach it, and that I was determined to do if I had to beg my way. I had just come to this resolution when I heard a step approaching, and hastened to hide my treasure in my bosom. I was both angry and alarmed, for the new comer was Mr. Lethbridge, for whom I had conceived a violent aversion. I would have passed from the room, but he barred the way whichever way I turned.
"Not so fast, not so fast, fair mistress!" said he. "Let me be your confessor, and tell me what you are doing here amid the pots and pans, and whether you are not glad in your heart to escape from this cage, and spread your wings?"