This document remained locked in my drawer all day: after tea，I asked leave of the new superintendent to go to Lowton，in order to perform some small missions for myself and one or two of my fellow-teachers; permission was readily granted; I went. It was a walk of two miles，and the evening was wet，but the days were still long; I visited a shop or two，slipped the letter into the post-office，and came back through heavy rain，with streaming garments，but with a relieved heart.

The succeeding week seemed long: it came to an end at last，however，like all sublunary things，and once more，towards the close of a pleasant autumn day，I found myself afoot on the road to Lowton. A picturesque track it was，by the way; lying along the side of the beck and through the sweetest curves of the dale: but that day I thought more of the letters，that might or might not be awaiting me at the little burgh whither I was bound，than of the charms of lea and water.

My ostensible errand on this occasion was to get measured for a pair of shoes; so I discharged that business first，and when it was done，I stepped across the clean and quiet little street from the shoemaker"s to the post-office: it was kept by an old dame，who wore horn spectacles on her nose，and black mittens on her hands.

"Are there any letters for J. E.?" I asked.