"What have you done with it?" I inquired.
She knew what I meant, and answered, gently,—
"I gave them back to my father—all except the letter, which I burned."
"Thank you, dear child."
There was silence awhile. I wanted to ask a question, but it made me faint. I think she would have answered that without waiting for words, only that the subject was a pain to her, as it was agony to me.
"Is she here yet?"
I knew that a whiteness was creeping over my lips as I uttered the words, and I felt a thrill of disgust pass over Jessie.
"She is here."
The bitter distress in her voice told me all that was in her heart. But it was a subject we could not speak upon.
"I have done everything in my power to send her away; but she will understand no hint, and I have no right to take decisive steps while my parents both like her so much."