The foster-sisters

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

"Would you not wish to have Sir Julius join the prince, Aunt Deborah?"

Mrs. Deborah paused before she answered.

"I ought to wish it!" said she. "Our house has always been loyal to the rightful line, and yet—child, I do not know what to say. When I think of this gallant young prince, and the stock from which he is sprung, I feel as if I could risk anything to set him on the throne of his fathers. And then on the other side, when I think of a civil war and all the horrors it brings in its train, it seems as if anything must be better than that. You say my lady is desirous of having Sir Julius go north!"

"I am not so certain about that, madam, but there is no doubt of her loyalty to the prince. She wears no ribbons but white. She is very busy making of white favors and cockades, and receives letters from the north every day. I believe she would like to go to Edinburgh herself."

Mrs. Deborah muttered something which I did not hear, and then asked me why I did not open my parcel.

I was only waiting her leave to do so, and availed myself of it with all speed. It contained a letter from Mrs. Thorpe, enclosing quite a large packet, post marked Exeter, and sealed with black. I guessed at once what had happened. My kind old kinsman was dead.

So it proved. Mr. Carey, Captain Corbet's lawyer in Exeter, had written to that effect, and not knowing my exact direction had sent the letter to Mrs. Thorpe's care. Captain Corbet had died at home in his own bed, at the Wells House, as it was called, in Cornwall, and with the exception of some legacies, had left me all his property, which amounted, taking one thing with another, to about three hundred a year—perhaps more. I was to enjoy one-third of this income till I came of age, and the whole of it till I was twenty-five, after which the property was mine own, and was to be settled upon me in case of my marrying. If however, I wedded any one but a loyal subject of the present government, the whole was to go to a certain orphan school, not far from Exeter.

I could not but shed some tears for the kind old man who had come so far to see me. I had always thought of him, as a friend and dependence.

Mr. Carey wrote very kindly, saying that he would take every care of my interest, and that if I wished it, I could come to him at once, and be a guest in his family, for as long a time as I found it convenient. His wife added a marvelously ill spelled but very kind note to her husband's. I should say that Mr. Carey was appointed my guardian or trustee,—I don't now remember the proper term. He enclosed me a sum of money—fifty pounds I think, to provide myself with mourning and for any other occasions. I Was very glad of this supply, for I had very little left, and I thought I might need it. My mourning was already to my hand.

Mrs. Thorpe wrote a good deal of Newcastle news—for she was a very fluent pen woman. She told me how the walls were being fortified, and how loyal all the people were—how Mr. Wesley preached to the soldiers, and that with the approval of their officers, and how Mr. Cheriton assisted him. She said that Mr. Cheriton was thinner and graver than his wont, but worked harder than ever among the poor.