About a week after Mr. Castellani’s reappearance Mildred Greswold received a letter from Brighton, which made a sudden change in her plans.
It was from Mr. Maltravers the Incumbent of St. Edmund’s:
“St. Edmund’s Vicarage.
“Dear Mrs. Greswold,—After our thoroughly confidential conversations last autumn I feel justified in addressing you upon a subject which I know is very near to your heart, namely, the health and welfare, spiritual as well as bodily, of your dear aunt and my most valued parishioner, Miss Fausset. The condition of that dear lady has given me considerable uneasiness during the last few months. She has refused to take her hand from the plough; she labours as faithfully as ever in the Lord’s vineyard; but I see with deepest regret that she is no longer the woman she was, even a year ago. The decay has been sudden, and it has been rapid. Her strength begins to fail her, though she will hardly admit as much, even to her medical attendant, and her spirits are less equable than of old. She has intervals of extreme depression, against which the efforts of friendship, the power of spiritual consolation, are unavailing.
“I feel it my duty to inform you, as one who has a right to be interested in the disposal of Miss Fausset’s wealth, that my benefactress has consummated the generosity of past years by a magnificent gift. She has endowed her beloved Church of St. Edmund with an income which, taken in conjunction with the pew-rents, an institution which I hope hereafter to abolish, raises the priest of the temple from penury to comfort, and affords him the means of helping the poor of his parish with his alms as well as with his prayers and ministrations. This munificent gift closes the long account of beneficence betwixt your dear aunt and me. I have nothing further to expect from her for my church or for myself. It is fully understood between us that this gift is final. You will understand, therefore, that I am disinterested in my anxiety for this precious life.
“You, dear Mrs. Greswold, are your aunt’s only near relative, and it is but right you should be the companion and comforter of her declining days. That the shadow of the grave is upon her I can but fear, although medical science sees but slight cause for alarm. A year ago she was a vigorous woman, spare of habit certainly, but with a hardness of bearing and manner which promised a long life. To-day she is a broken woman, nervous, fitful, and, I fear, unhappy, though I can conceive no cause for sadness in the closing years of such a noble life as hers has been, unselfish, devoted to good works and exalted thoughts. If you can find it compatible with your other ties to come to Brighton, I would strongly recommend you to come without loss of time, and I believe that the change which you will yourself perceive in my valued friend will fully justify the course I take in thus addressing you.—I am ever, dear Mrs. Greswold, your friend and servant,
“Samuel Maltravers.”
Mildred gave immediate orders to courier and maid, her trunks were to be packed that afternoon, a coupé was to be taken in the Rapide for the following day, and the travellers were to go straight through to Paris. But when she announced this fact to Pamela the damsel’s countenance expressed utmost despondency.
“Upon my word, aunt, you have a genius for taking one away from a place just when one is beginning to be happy!” she exclaimed in irrepressible vexation.