Waugh.
"My dear Lapwing, if you love your old aunty, come immediately back in
the carriage. And, by the way, my dear, I wish you would, either in
going or coming, take the post-office, and get the letters and papers,"
said Mrs. Waugh.
"Let it be in going, then, Mrs. Waugh, for I have not been to the
post-office for two days, and there may be something there for us also,"
said Marian.
"Very well, bright Hebe; as you please, of course," replied good
Henrietta.
And so they parted. Did either dream how many suns would rise and set,
how many seasons come and go, how many years roll by, before the two
should meet again?
The carriage was driven rapidly on to the village, and drawn up at the
post-office. Old Oliver jumped down, and went in to make the necessary
inquiries. They waited impatiently until he reappeared, bringing one
large letter. There was nothing for Luckenough.
The great double letter was for Marian. She took it, and as the carriage
was started again, and drawn toward Old Fields, she examined the
post-mark and superscription. It was a foreign letter, mailed from
London, and superscribed in the handwriting of her oldest living friend,
the pastor who had attended her brother in his prison and at the scene
of his death.
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