2. A letter to the said Sir John Macartney from Mr. Simcoe of Gray's Inn
Square, announcing the death of my father, Antony Strelley Esquire.

3. A letter addressed to me by my honoured, dear and now widowed mother.

Over these documents--especially the last two of them--and my mournful
reflections upon them, I draw that veil, which no one who has been a bad
but repentant son to a saintly parent, will ever ask me to lift up.

My first desire was to be rid of Palamone, my next to think. I turned
shortly on the frate.

"I am obliged to you for your diligence in my affairs," I said to him,
"though I don't understand how you procured the means of using it.
However, as you seem willing to serve me, you will have the goodness to
ride on to Sinalunga and buy me three horses, two suits of clothes, with
riding-boots and cloaks for each; body linen sufficient for two persons,
valises and whatever else may be necessary--all being duplicates,
remember. The whole of these necessaries you will bring back to that
house which you see in the valley, together with a proper supply of
ready money, within three hours of this. Now be off."

It was his turn to salute me now, and for him to say, "Servo suo."

I found Belviso helping Filippa, the daughter of the house, to milk the
goats, and when he had done, drew him apart and told him my news. He
received it gravely, without surprise. "Don Francis," he said, "what do
you expect of me, except 'Of course!' It did not need much penetration
on my part to see that you were a signorino. The whole of our company
knew it. As far as I am concerned, it only makes your goodness to me the