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Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. But the current rumblings of internal discontent across the Channel were productive of unease in certain quarters. He seemed wholly insensible to the rain, though it presently descended in torrents, and continued his search as ardently as before.
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