THAT LETTER
"I SAY, Minnie, I've got a letter. I'll show it to you as we go to
school."
Selina spoke in a mysterious whisper as they were washing their hands
in the scullery, and the little girl looked cautiously over her
shoulder, lest her mother should hear what she said.
Mrs. Brown was in the adjoining kitchen, and hearing Selina's voice,
she told the girls to make haste, or they would be late for school.
Minnie hurried to finish, in obedience to her mother's command.
"What a time you are washing your hands!" she said to her little
sister. "I must go," she said the next minute, and with a hasty
"Good-bye, mother," she hurried out the back way, but was speedily
followed by Selina.
"Wait for me, Minnie! Wait for me!" called the little girl.
Minnie looked back and saw her sister waving a letter in her hand, and
she ran back to meet her.
"What have you got there?" she asked, rather sharply.
"The letter I told you about. The postman was at the door when I
fetched the milk this morning, and he gave it to me. It's one of those
nasty blue letters that come from that hospital where poor Fanny died.
Wasn't I lucky to get it before mother saw it?" said the child. "It
would be sure to make her ill again if she had it, you know."
"What do you mean, Selina? This letter is for father or mother," she
added, taking it out of the little girl's hand and looking at the
address.
"What are you going to do with it?" asked Selina, as Minnie turned
round to walk home again.
"Why, we must take it to mother, of course," said Minnie, quickly.
"No, no, Minnie; don't do that. You know the last time one of those
ugly blue letters came it made mother ill," pleaded Selina.
"That was because it brought the news about poor Fanny," said Minnie.
"Yes; and that will bring some other nasty news, though it can't
be about Fanny. Still, it will be sure to make mother cry and be
miserable. The sight of the old thing is enough to do that," said
Selina. "Tear it up, Minnie," she added.
"Why, Selina, what are you saying? The letter isn't ours to do as we
like with it; and even if it should make mother ill again, she must
have it, for it wouldn't be right to do anything else with it." Minnie
was quite clear in her own mind upon this point.
Selina pouted and tried to snatch the letter away from her sister, and
even proposed that they should take it to school and ask their teacher
about it.
But Minnie still shook her head. "I know what Miss Martin would say,"
she answered; "she would tell me to take it home to mother at once. And
so you had better tell her I have had to go back; but you run on to
school now, or we shall both be late." And as she spoke Minnie turned
towards home again, and left Selina still pouting, and exclaiming that
she did not love her mother, or she would not want to take the letter
to her.
Minnie, however, paid no heed to these upbraidings. She knew that it
was the only right thing to do, whatever the consequences might be, and
so she went on, though her steps flagged, and she wondered again and
again what would happen when this blue envelope was opened.
Mrs. Brown saw Minnie from the bedroom window before she reached the
door, and she came down to see what had happened, for she had caught
sight of the large official envelope, and she wondered what fresh
trouble it could bring to her.
"What is it, Minnie?" she asked, as the little girl reached the
doorstep.
"Selina had this letter, mother. She was afraid to give it to you for
fear it should make you ill; but I thought you had better have it;" and
Minnie handed the letter to her mother.
Mrs. Brown could not repress a shudder as she took it.
"You did quite right, Minnie," she said, in spite of the shiver that
went through her. "Come in, dear, and we will see what news this
brings."
Minnie watched her mother's face as she tore open the large envelope;
but that and a sheet of blue paper fell to the ground unheeded as Mrs.
Brown saw another letter, in another handwriting, folded inside the
official letter. The writing was weak and shaky, as though the writer
was ill, and the colour left Mrs. Brown's face, and Minnie feared her
mother was going to fall out of the chair, as she cried out—
"My child, my Fanny, my darling!"
"What is it, mother? What is it?" asked Minnie, putting her arms round
her mother's neck, and looking down at the letter in her hand. "Is it
from Fanny?" she asked, with a gasp, for the handwriting was strangely
like her sister's.
Her mother nodded and smiled, and then the tears came into her eyes,
and it was some minutes before either of them could read the letter
through, although it was a very short one.
"Dearest Mother," she wrote, "Nurse has just told me that I may try and
write a letter to you. I have been ill for a long time, and I dare say
you have wondered where I was. I have been a naughty girl, I know now,
for I left my place where I was comfortable and went to one where I
caught the fever, and had to come to the hospital. I am afraid it has
been a great deal of trouble to you, for I know you love me, although
I have been so naughty, and do not deserve it. But you will forgive
me and send me a letter soon to tell me you have not forgotten me,
although I have not heard from you for such a long time."
Mrs. Brown and Minnie read this letter, though it is doubtful whether
either of them understood much beyond the wonderful fact that Fanny was
not dead, after all.
"Mother, how is it there was such a mistake about Fanny?" said Minnie,
at last; and as she spoke she picked up the official letter and
envelope from the floor.
In this letter it was explained that two girls of the same name were
admitted to the hospital on the same day, and by some mischance the one
who had died was supposed to be the one who was surviving; but to make
sure that there was now no error, the survivor had been asked to write
a few lines to her friends, and give their address, now that she was a
little better and in the full possession of her faculties. An answer
was asked to be returned, giving the full name, age, and address of the
girl whom they claimed as their daughter. A letter might also be sent
to the patient, but at present no visitors could be allowed to see her,
although she would soon be well enough to be sent to a convalescent
home.
It was not until this had been read a second time that Mrs. Brown
and Minnie could understand all it meant, and when at last she did
comprehend it, Mrs. Brown was all impatience to send the answer
required.
"Get me a pen and ink, Minnie. You shall take the letter to the central
post-office so that it may go quicker. My poor Fanny! If I had only
known this she should not have waited to hear from us."
But Mrs. Brown did not find it so easy to answer the official letter
she had received, and she wondered where the parents of the girl they
had buried could be found. These people were living in the belief that
their daughter was getting better; and what a cruel awakening it would
be when they heard she had been buried by strangers in a strange place.
She could not help thinking of these unknown parents as she rejoiced
over the news this letter had brought to her.
"It was a good thing we did not tear up the ugly blue letter," said
Minnie, as her mother wrote the few lines required as the official
reply.
To Fanny she wrote more freely, assuring her of love and forgiveness,
and promising to come and see her as soon as visitors were allowed, and
that Minnie and Eliza should write to her the next day.
Having sent Minnie with this letter to the central post-office that it
might reach its destination the more quickly, she next wrote to her
husband, enclosing the letters she had received from the hospital, and
telling him what she had done. When this letter was finished, she put
on her bonnet and went herself to post it, and send a telegram to him
at once, for she could not keep the wonderful news to herself. She
wanted to tell everybody she met that it was all a mistake that her
Fanny was dead. She did tell several of the neighbours whom she knew,
and they, remembering how ill she was when the news of Fanny's death
first came, looked at her in wondering surprise, and though they said
a few words of congratulation at the time, they shook their heads in
a pitying fashion afterwards, and whispered to each other that they
feared poor Mrs. Brown had gone out of her mind. This report reached
Jessie Collins before Mrs. Brown returned after sending her telegram.
Jessie's foot was better now, and she was waiting at the corner of the
street when Mrs. Brown got back from the post-office.
"I have come to see if I can help you do anything this morning," said
the girl, looking keenly at her friend.
"Thank you, dear; but Minnie will be back very soon now. She has not
gone to school this morning. Have you heard the good news? I told Mrs.
Tate when I met her going to the post-office. It is all a mistake about
our Fanny being dead. She is getting better. I had a letter from the
hospital telling me this morning, and have just sent to let her father
know."
Jessie looked puzzled. Certainly her friend did not look like a person
out of her mind; but still the news seemed too wonderful to be true.
"Let me come in with you until Minnie comes back," she said, after a
pause, for Mrs. Tate had remarked that she ought not to be left alone.
"I should like to see the letter they sent to tell you Fanny was
getting better," added Jessie.
"Yes, I might have shown it to you before I sent it away; but I have
sent it to Brown now. I wish I could go and tell him myself; but he
will get a telegram quicker, and the letter will reach him to-night,
they say."
Jessie walked home with Mrs. Brown, and very soon Minnie came in, and
Jessie at once asked if she had seen the letter from the hospital.
"Oh yes, I saw it. You need not think it is all a dream," answered
Minnie.
Jessie had never seen quiet, steady Minnie so excited.
"Now, mother, we have posted the letter to Fanny, and you have sent
to let father know about it. Now let me go and tell Eliza up at the
Vicarage, for you know how she has grieved about poor Fanny."
"I will stay and help you, or help Minnie," said Jessie, who felt she
must do something to help in spreading the joyful news.
Mrs. Brown considered the matter for a minute, and then she said—
"I think I would rather go to the Vicarage myself, Minnie; but you may
go to the school and tell Miss Martin and Selina. I dare say the child
is wondering what news the letter she was so afraid of has brought to
us; and you ought to go at once. Now, Jessie, will you wash up the
breakfast things for us? I have stripped the beds, and Minnie can help
me make them when I come back from the Vicarage; but I do not feel as
though I could stay in the house until I have told all the friends, who
were so kind to us in our trouble, that it is all over now, and God has
kept our child in life all this time when we thought she was dead."
"Yes, you go to the Vicarage and see Eliza, while I go to school and
tell Miss Martin," said Minnie; for she thought it would do her mother
good to have a word with the Vicar, as she had talked so fast that
Minnie, too, was afraid she might be ill again.
Mrs. Brown was so impatient to reach the Vicarage that she did not
notice that Minnie lingered behind to speak to Jessie after she was
gone.
"I never saw mother just like this before," she said, as soon as the
door closed after her.
"But the news is really true, Minnie?" said Jessie, in a questioning
tone.
"What do you mean, Jessie?" asked Minnie.
"Well, I met Mrs. Tate before I came here, and she said your mother had
gone out of her mind; and, you see, nobody ever heard of such a thing
as this before, and so—"
"Oh, you think the letter never came to tell us such wonderful news!"
interrupted Minnie.
"Well, Mrs. Tate seemed to think the trouble about Fanny had turned
your mother's brain," said Jessie.
Minnie could afford to laugh at this suggestion. "Oh no; it is quite
true about the letter. I saw it and read every word, and mother has
sent it on to father, and I hope he will come home as soon as he gets
it, for fear the good news should make mother ill. Selina said she knew
the nasty letter would make her bad again, and she wanted to tear it
up, only I said it would not be right, and mother must have it."
Jessie laughed. "That's just like you Browns. If a thing is right, or
you think it is right, then it must be done, no matter what happens
through it," said Jessie.
"Why, yes, of course," answered Minnie, as though there could be no two
opinions upon this matter. "Selina isn't old enough to think about such
things as she ought, or she would not have wanted to tear up a letter
that was not her own," said Minnie.
"It would have been a pity if she had torn up this one," said Jessie,
"though I am not sure that it won't make your mother ill, after all.
There, you go and tell Miss Martin, and get back before your mother
comes," she added. For in point of fact Jessie felt half afraid lest
her friend was going to lose her senses, and she thought Minnie would
know better what to do for her mother than she did.
So Minnie ran off to school, and Selina looked greatly relieved when
she saw her sister come in smiling, and looking at her reassuringly,
for her long absence had convinced the little girl that the dreadful
letter had caused some mischief, and she had informed one or two of her
schoolfellows that she knew her mother was ill, as Minnie had not come
to school.
But now, instead of going to her own class, Minnie walked straight up
to Miss Martin's table, and said—
"If you please, ma'am, mother told me to come and tell you that we have
had a letter from the hospital where we thought Fanny had died, and she
is not dead, but getting better."
Miss Martin looked so astonished, so incredulous, that Minnie said—
"It is true, ma'am, really."
"But, my dear child, no one ever heard of such a thing before."
"That is what everybody says. And of course we cannot tell how it could
have happened; but we have got a letter from Fanny, herself, as well as
from the people at the hospital, telling us that a mistake was made,
and she is getting better."
"Dear me! How wonderful! But how careless somebody must have been to
make such a mistake. Nov, you want to go and tell Selina and one or two
of Fanny's friends, I know. Selina does not know the news, or we should
all have heard it long ago," added Miss Martin.
Meanwhile Mrs. Brown had reached the Vicarage, and asked to see Eliza.
The housemaid looked surprised at such a request being made so early.
"She is not going out to-day, is she, Mrs. Brown?" she asked.
"Oh no. I shall not hinder her more than a few minutes, if she is busy.
The Vicar has gone out, I suppose," added the visitor.
"I don't think he has gone yet," replied the servant. "Would you like
to see him?" she added, for she knew that Nurse would not be pleased if
Eliza was fetched away from her work just now, no matter who might want
her.
So she went to see if the Vicar was disengaged, and came back in a
minute and took Mrs. Brown to the room where her master received his
parishioners.
"Good morn—"
But Mrs. Brown was too eager to tell her news to wait for the usual
greeting.
"Oh, sir, I am glad you are at home, for I wanted to tell you. My girl,
my Fanny, is not dead. She is not, indeed, sir. It is all a mistake."
The Vicar looked at her in astonishment, and then he said—
"How did you hear this, Mrs. Brown?"
"From the hospital, sir. I had the letter this morning. There was one
from Fanny too, and I have sent them both to my husband."
The Vicar hardly knew what to think. Like Mrs. Tate, he feared it must
be the effect of her illness from which the poor woman was suffering.
He talked to her for several minutes, and tried to persuade her not to
tell Eliza until she had some further confirmation of the news.
"Oh, sir; but I cannot wait! Eliza has grieved so about Fanny, that she
ought to hear the good news as soon as anybody."
"Yes; and because she has grieved more than is usual for her sister's
death, I want to spare her any future disappointment," said the Vicar,
kindly. "Will you trust me in this matter? As you know, Eliza has not
been well since the news came of her sister's death, and she must be
told very gently that she is living, lest the news should do even more
harm. Now, leave it to me, and I will go at once and make further
inquiries about this report. And if I find it is indeed true, I will
bring the news to you at once, and then you shall come and tell Eliza
yourself as soon as I get back."
Mrs. Brown found it hard to yield to the Vicar's wish on this point;
but she knew it was for her child's sake he asked it, and so, for her
sake, she consented, and went home again without seeing Eliza, or
telling any one but the Vicar of her wonderful news.