"Oh, Mistress Bellairs!" cried Sir Jasper. "Tell me," cried he panting, "what did these letters contain?"
"La!" said she, "what a question to put to a lady!"
"For God's sake, madam!" said he, and in truth he looked piteous.
"Then, step apart," said she, "and for dear Julia's sake I will confide in you, as a gentleman."
She led him to the moonlit window, while all followed them with curious eyes—except Verney, who surreptitiously drank his punch, and slid away from the table, with the fear of his aunt in his heart. And now Mistress Kitty hung her head, looked exceedingly bashful and exceedingly coy. She took up a corner of her dainty flowered gown and plaited it in her fingers.
"Was there," she asked, "was there anything of the description of a—of a trifling lock of hair, in the first letter—'twas somewhat of an auburn hue?"
"Confusion!" exclaimed the baronet, thrust the fateful letters into her hand, and turning on his heel, stamped his foot, muttering furiously: "Curse the fool that wrote them, and the feather-head that dropped them!"
"And what of the fool that picked them up and read them?" whispered Mistress Kitty's voice in his ears, sharp as a slender stiletto.
She looked him up and down with a fine disdainful mockery.
"Why will you men write?" said she meaningly. "Letters are dangerous things!"