No Name Wilkie Collins (e book reader android TXT) 📖

He sent in his card, and knowing, when I looked at the name, that he was my cousin⁠—if I may call him so⁠—I thought there would be no impropriety in my seeing him and asking his advice. I abstained from entering into particulars for Magdalen’s sake, and I made no allusion to that letter of Mrs. Lecount’s which you answered for me. I only told him Magdalen was missing, and had been last heard of at Aldborough. The kindness which he showed in devoting himself to my assistance exceeds all description. He treated me, in my forlorn situation, with a delicacy and respect which I shall remember gratefully long after he has himself perhaps forgotten our meeting altogether. He is quite young⁠—not more than thirty, I should think. In face and figure, he reminded me a little of the portrait of my father at Combe-Raven⁠—I mean the portrait in the dining-room, of my father when he was a young man.

“Useless as our inquiries were, there is one result of them which has left a very strange and shocking impression on my mind.

“It appears that Mr. Noel Vanstone has lately married, under mysterious circumstances, a young lady whom he met with at Aldborough, named Bygrave. He has gone away with his wife, telling nobody but his lawyer where he has gone to. This I heard from Mr. George Bartram, who was endeavoring to trace him, for the purpose of communicating the news of his housekeeper’s serious illness⁠—the housekeeper being the same Mrs. Lecount whose letter you answered. So far, you may say, there is nothing which need particularly interest either of us. But I think you will be as much surprised as I was when I tell you that the description given by the people at Aldborough of Miss Bygrave’s appearance is most startlingly and unaccountably like the description of Magdalen’s appearance. This discovery, taken in connection with all the circumstances we know of, has had an effect on my mind which I cannot describe to you⁠—which I dare not realize to myself. Pray come and see me! I have never felt so wretched about Magdalen as I feel now. Suspense must have weakened my nerves in some strange way. I feel superstitious about the slightest things. This accidental resemblance of a total stranger to Magdalen fills me every now and then with the most horrible misgivings⁠—merely because Mr. Noel Vanstone’s name happens to be mixed up with it. Once more, pray come to me; I have so much to say to you that I cannot, and dare not, say in writing.

“Gratefully and affectionately yours,

“Norah.”

III From Mr. John Loscombe (Solicitor) to George Bartram, Esq.

“Lincoln’s Inn, London, September 6th, 1847.

“Sir⁠—I beg to acknowledge the receipt of your note, inclosing a letter addressed to my client, Mr. Noel Vanstone, and requesting that I will forward the same to Mr. Vanstone’s present address.

“Since I last had the pleasure of communicating with you on this subject, my position toward my client is entirely altered. Three days ago I received a letter from him, which stated his intention of changing his place of residence on the next day then ensuing, but which left me entirely in ignorance on the subject of the locality to which it was his intention to remove. I have not heard from him since; and, as he had previously drawn on me for a larger sum of money than usual, there would be no present necessity for his writing to me again⁠—assuming that it is his wish to keep his place of residence concealed from everyone, myself included.

“Under these circumstances, I think it right to return you your letter, with the assurance that I will let you know, if I happen to be again placed in a position to forward it to its destination.

“Your obedient servant,

“John Loscombe.”

IV From Norah Vanstone to Miss Garth

“Portland Place.

“My Dear Miss Garth⁠—Forget the letter I wrote to you yesterday, and all the gloomy forebodings that it contains. This morning’s post has brought new life to me. I have just received a letter, addressed to me at your house, and forwarded here, in your absence from home yesterday, by your sister. Can you guess who the writer is?⁠—Magdalen!

“The letter is very short; it seems to have been written in a hurry. She says she has been dreaming of me for some nights past, and the dreams have made her fear that her long silence has caused me more distress on her account than she is worth. She writes, therefore, to assure me that she is safe and well⁠—that she hopes to see me before long⁠—and that she has something to tell me, when we meet, which will try my sisterly love for her as nothing has tried it yet. The letter is not dated; but the postmark is ‘Allonby,’ which I have found, on referring to the Gazetteer, to be a little seaside place in Cumberland. There is no hope of my being able to write back, for Magdalen expressly says that she is on the eve of departure from her present residence, and that she is not at liberty to say where she is going to next, or to leave instructions for forwarding any letters after her.

“In happier times I should have thought this letter very far from being a satisfactory one, and I should have been seriously alarmed by that allusion to a future confidence on her part which will try my love for her as nothing has tried it yet. But after all the suspense I have suffered, the happiness of seeing her handwriting again seems to fill my heart and to keep all other feelings out of it. I don’t send you her letter, because I know you are coming to me soon, and I want to have the pleasure of seeing you read it.

“Ever affectionately yours,

“Norah.

“P.S.⁠—Mr. George Bartram called on Mrs. Tyrrel today. He insisted