'My husband will send his testimonials, Miss, to Lord Montbarry
in Scotland. I only wanted you to let him say in his letter
that his wife has been known to you since she was a child,
and that you feel some little interest in his welfare on that account.
I don't ask it now, Miss. You have made me understand that I
was wrong.'
Had she really been wrong? Past remembrances, as well as present
troubles, pleaded powerfully with Agnes for the courier's wife.
'It seems only a small favour to ask,' she said, speaking under
the impulse of kindness which was the strongest impulse in her nature.
'But I am not sure that I ought to allow my name to be mentioned in your
husband's letter. Let me hear again exactly what he wishes to say.'
Emily repeated the words--and then offered one of those suggestions,
which have a special value of their own to persons unaccustomed to the use
of their pens. 'Suppose you try, Miss, how it looks in writing?'
Childish as the idea was, Agnes tried the experiment. 'If I let you
mention me,' she said, 'we must at least decide what you are to say.'
She wrote the words in the briefest and plainest form:--'I venture to state
that my wife has been known from her childhood to Miss Agnes Lockwood,
who feels some little interest in my welfare on that account.
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