Theodosia recoiled from her own evil thoughts. To wish to lead that young creature into sin! It was too terrible. Deliberately to plan temptation, in the hope that it might prove irresistible! Theodosia shuddered at herself for the desire, yet she did not cast it away, and slay it. She let herself look at it steadily, and the sense of repulsion lessened. A thought of the bracelet came up anew. Then Theodosia grew harder, and when she viewed the suggestion once more, it seemed not quite so black, but only natural under the circumstances.
At the worst, she was merely proposing to use a slight test, the kind of test that comes to everybody sooner or later. She was not going to tempt or injure Lettice. If she chose to leave the bank-note lying outside her desk, instead of locking it up at once, whose business was that? All the world might see it there; Lettice and Felix included, of course. If it remained untouched, she would have proved the girl's inviolable honesty. So much the better for Lettice.
When the two came in, they found Theodosia in a mood to all appearance friendly. Lettice, being used to these sudden variations, thought little of the change. She knew how slight was the dependence to be placed on Theodosia's happiest frames.
They talked of where the brother and sister had been, discussing the neighbourhood. Theodosia presently called Lettice out of the room, on some slight pretext, leaving Felix alone, with the bank-note on her desk, half-covered by papers, yet distinctly visible. The figure, £20, might be seen from half across the room.
Then she brought Lettice back, begged her to wind a skein of silk, and led Felix into the conservatory, making talk about the plants for a good ten minutes. After which, at the sound of the incoming tea-tray, she sauntered to her desk, with carefully averted eyes, that she might not see if the note were or were not still there, and tossed all loose papers into her desk, turning the key upon them securely. It was a key which she always carried on her watch-chain.
Nor did she again shudder at herself for what she had done. As one grows used to the dim light of a darkened room, it seems to become a little less dark. Theodosia's eyesight was becoming accustomed to the blackness of that evil desire which had taken possession of her.
[CHAPTER XI.]
A VANISHED BANK-NOTE.
"WHERE can I have put it? Where is it gone?" exclaimed Theodosia, in an agitated voice.
She had grown pale, and her hands shook, as they turned over the contents of her desk. No one would have guessed her surprise to be simulated; and in truth the agitation was genuine enough, though not from the avowed cause.