2. 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. ‘Ah, no,’ Gerald uttered at once, lowering his voice and infusing it with all the promise he could command. Besides these, there was a sturdylooking fellow, whom he instantly recognised as the honest blacksmith who had freed him from his irons at Tottenham. A beachcomber in embryo, and she had lent a hand through habit as much as through pity. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced.
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