ABSTRACT
You have now seen the note which was delivered into Mr. Benson’s hands, as the cool shades of evening stole, over the glowing summer sky. When he had read it, he again prepared to write a few hasty lines before the post went out. The postboy was even, now sounding his horn through the village as a signal for letters to be ready; and it was well that Mr. Benson, in his long morning’s meditation, had decided upon the course to be pursued, in case of such an answer as that which he had received from Mrs. Bellingham. His present note was as follows:
‘Dear Faith,
‘You must come to this place directly, where I earnestly desire you and your advice. I am well myself, so do not be alarmed. I have no time for explanation, but I am sure you will not refuse me; let me trust that I shall see you on Saturday at the latest. You know the mode, by which I came; it is the best both for expedition and cheapness. Dear Faith, do not fail me.
‘Your affectionate brother, ‘Thurstan Benson.