poorer than himself. However, that was not the place to read letters, so
he put the epistle into his pocket, until Helen, who watched his
countenance to see when he grew tired of the scene, kindly proposed to
return home. As they gained a stile half-way, Mr. Fielden remembered his
letter, took it forth, and put on his spectacles. Helen stooped over the
bank to gather violets; the vicar seated himself on the stile. As he
again looked at the address, the handwriting, before unfamiliar, seemed
to grow indistinctly on his recollection. That bold, firm hand--thin and
fine as woman's, but large and regular as man's--was too peculiar to be
forgotten. He uttered a brief exclamation of surprise and recognition,
and hastily broke the seal. The contents ran thus:--

DEAR SIR,--So many years have passed since any communication has taken
place between us that the name of Lucretia Dalibard will seem more
strange to you than that of Lucretia Clavering. I have recently returned
to England after long residence abroad. I perceive by my deceased
sister's will that she has confided her only daughter to my guardianship,
conjointly with yourself. I am anxious to participate in that tender
charge. I am alone in the world,--an habitual sufferer; afflicted with a
partial paralysis that deprives me of the use of my limbs. In such
circumstances, it is the more natural that I should turn to the only
relative left me. My journey to England has so exhausted my strength,
and all movement is so painful, that I must request you to excuse me for
not coming in person for my niece. Your benevolence, however, will, I am
sure, prompt you to afford me the comfort of her society, and as soon as
you can, contrive some suitable arrangement for her journey. Begging you
to express to Helen, in my name, the assurance of such a welcome as is
due from me to my sister's child, and waiting with great anxiety your
reply, I am, dear Sir, Your very faithful servant,
LUCRETIA DALIBARD.