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It was the letter to Ovid, which she had placed in the post-basket that afternoon; the letter which declared that she could no longer endure his mother's cold-blooded cruelty, and that she only waited Teresa's arrival to join him at Quebec. After one dreadful moment of confusion, her mind realised the outrage implied in the stealing and reading of her letter.
"I am sorry if I have alarmed you," he said, and opened the house-door for her without showing himself to Marceline and the coachman outside. The carriage having been driven away, he softly closed the door again, and returned to the hall-table. He looked into the post-basket. Was there any danger of discovery by the servants?
It was plain that she would do it, if he moved a step nearer to her. He drew aside with a look which made her tremble. On passing the hall table, she placed her letter in the post-basket. His eye followed it, as it left her hand: he became suddenly penitent and polite.
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