Henceforth Hope should lend her torch to light my dearth--her wings to
bear me up--her anchor wherewith to moor my hark of life wherever cast,
and to the poor waif I cherished I owed this immeasurable good. Had Mrs.
Clayton anticipated him with her infallible besom--that housewifely
detective, that drags more secrets to light than ever did paid
policeman--I should never have grasped this talisman of love and hope,
never have waked up as I did wake up from that hour to the endurance
which immortalizes endeavor, and renders patience almost pleasurable.
On the back of this well-worn letter was a pencil-scrawl, which,
although I read it last, I present first to my reader, that he may trace
link by link the chain of villainy that bound together my two
oppressors.
It was in the small, clear calligraphy of Basil Bainrothe, before
described; characterized, I believe, as a back-hand--and thus it ran:
"You are right--it was a master-stroke! Keep them in ignorance of each
other, and all will yet go well. I sail to-morrow, and have only time to
inclose this with a pencilled line. Try and head them at New York. My
first idea was the best--my reason I will explain later.
"Yours truly, B.B.
"N.B.--The man could not have played into our hands better than by
taking up such an impression. There is no one there to undeceive him.
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