“No!” she said at once. “I do not believe a word of it!”
He took her hand and pressed it, all unconsciously, so that the rings almost cut into her delicate fingers.
“How shall I thank you for saying that?” he exclaimed, in a low voice, which showed how deeply he was moved. “They are the first words of comfort, of encouragement! You do not believe it?”
“No, I am certain it is not true. She has left Barton, I know, but as to the rest—why, it is too absurd! Shall I tell you why I do not believe it? Because I have something for you which will explain all, I’ve no doubt,” and she held out the letter.
He almost snatched it from her.
“A letter! Why—where—when—how——” And he stared at her with eager impatience.
“It came while you were away, and I took it. Don’t be angry.”
“Angry! Has any one seen it but yourself?”
“No one!—no one! I kept it. Of course, I felt that its safety was of importance to you. I should have forwarded it to you, but I knew you were moving about, and I feared it might be lost.”
“I see, I see!” he said, and already hope was displaying itself in his face and voice.