ran the ardent lines,
"most desired, most beloved! Was it last night or a hundred years ago that we met? This is the lock of hair the loveliest hand in all the world deigned to caress. It became upon that moment far too precious a thing for its poor owner. He ventures, therefore, to offer it at the shrine of the goddess who consecrated it. Will she cast it from her? Or will she keep it and let it speak to her, every hair a tongue, of the burning flame of love that she has kindled in this mortal breast? Did I dream, or can it be true?—there was a patch above the dimple at the corner of your lip. I kissed it. Oh, it must have been a dream! One word, fairest:—When may I dream again?
"Your own and ever your own.
"P.S.—The lock was white before you touched it, but you see you have turned it to fire!"
Mistress Kitty read and smiled. "The very thing!" Then she paused. "But has the woman a dimple?" said she. "Has she? Never mind, something must be risked. Now, if I know men, Sir Jasper will spend the whole night prowling about, trying to discover confirmation of his suspicions."
The letter was folded up. "It must seem as if it dropped from my lady's bosom. Here, at the foot of the sofa, just peeping from behind the foot-stool! A jealous eye cannot miss it!"
The deed was done.
She caught up her cloak and hood, glanced cheerfully round the room, satisfied herself that the letter showed itself sufficiently in the candle light to attract a roving eye and, bustling forth, summoned her chair for her departure in a far better humour than that which had marked her arrival.
"They could not fight till morning," she said to herself, as she snuggled against the silken sides. "Now heaven speed my plan!" She breathed a pious prayer as her bearers swung her onwards.