"From Mrs. Cassilis, sir."
"Oh!" said Lawrence. "And you are——"
"I am her maid, sir."
"Where is Janet, then?"
"Janet is dead. She died three years ago, before Mrs. Cassilis married."
"Oh, Janet is dead, is she? Ah, that accounts—I mean, where did Janet die?"
"In lodgings at Ventnor, sir. Mrs. Cassilis—Miss Pengelley she was then, as you know, sir,"—Lawrence looked up sharply, but there was no change in the woman's impassive face as she spoke,—"Miss Pengelley sent me with her, and Janet died in my arms, sir, of consumption."
"Ah, I am sorry! And so Mrs. Cassilis has sent you to me with this letter, has she?" He did not open it. "Will you tell Mrs. Cassilis that I will send an answer by post, if there is any answer required?"
"I beg your pardon, sir; but Mrs. Cassilis told me expressly that if you were in town I was to wait for an answer, if I had to wait all day."
"In that case I suppose I had better read the letter."