“I have waited a little, once more, trying to think, before I close my letter, what there may be still left to write.

“I can not think of any thing left but the duty of informing you how you may find me if you wish to write—­or if it is thought necessary that we should meet again.

“One word before I tell you this.

“It is impossible for me to guess what you will do, or what you will be advised to do by others, when you get my letter.  I don’t even know that you may not already have heard of what your position is from Geoffrey Delamayn himself.  In this event, or in the event of your thinking it desirable to take Blanche into your confidence, I venture to suggest that you should appoint some person whom you can trust to see me on your behalf—­or, if you can not do this that you should see me in the presence of a third person.  The man who has not hesitated to betray us both, will not hesitate to misrepresent us in the vilest way, if he can do it in the future.  For your own sake, let us be careful to give lying tongues no opportunity of assailing your place in Blanche’s estimation.  Don’t act so as to risk putting yourself in a false position again! Don’t let it be possible that a feeling unworthy of her should be roused in the loving and generous nature of your future wife!

“This written, I may now tell you how to communicate with me after I have left this place.

“You will find on the slip of paper inclosed the name and address of the second of the two lawyers whom I consulted in Glasgow.  It is arranged between us that I am to inform him, by letter, of the next place to which I remove, and that he is to communicate the information either to you or to Sir Patrick Lundie, on your applying for it personally or by writing.  I don’t yet know myself where I may find refuge.  Nothing is certain but that I can not, in my present state of weakness, travel far.

“If you wonder why I move at all until I am stronger, I can only give a reason which may appear fanciful and overstrained.

“I have been informed that I was advertised in the Glasgow newspapers during the time when I lay at this hotel, a stranger at the point of death.  Trouble has perhaps made me morbidly suspicious.  I am afraid of what may happen if I stay here, after my place of residence has been made publicly known.  So, as soon as I can move, I go away in secret.  It will be enough for me, if I can find rest and peace in some quiet place, in the country round Glasgow.  You need feel no anxiety about my means of living.  I have money enough for all that I need—­and, if I get well again, I know how to earn my bread.

“I send no message to Blanche—­I dare not till this is over.  Wait till she is your happy wife; and then give her a kiss, and say it comes from Anne.

“Try and forgive me, dear Mr. Brinkworth.  I have said all.  Yours gratefully,

“ANNE SILVESTER.”

Sir Patrick put the letter down with unfeigned respect for the woman who had written it.