“Bascombe Rectory, Thursday Morning.
“RESPECTED SIR--I see a letter in your writing, on the table along with
the others, which I am sorry to say my master is not well enough to
open. He is down with a sort of low fever. The doctor says it has been
brought on with worry and anxiety which master was not strong enough to
bear. This seems likely; for I was with him when he went to London last
month, and what with his own business, and the business of looking after
that person who afterward gave us the slip, he was worried and anxious
all the time; and for the matter of that, so was I.
“My master was talking of you a day or two since. He seemed unwilling
that you should know of his illness, unless he got worse. But I think
you ought to know of it. At the same time he is not worse; perhaps
a trifle better. The doctor says he must be kept very quiet, and not
agitated on any account. So be pleased to take no notice of this--I mean
in the way of coming to the rectory. I have the doctor’s orders to say
it is not needful, and it would only upset my master in the state he is
in now.
“I will write again if you wish it. Please accept of my duty, and
believe me to remain, sir, your humble servant,
“ROBERT STAPLETON.
“P. S.--The yacht has been rigged and repainted, waiting your orders.
She looks beautiful.”