“I'll take her orders first.”
On this Lally grabbed at it and caught Jael's right hand, which closed directly on the letter like a vise.
“Are these your manners?” said she. “Give over now.”
“I tell you I will have it!” said he, fiercely, for he had caught sight of the handwriting.
He seized her hand and applied his knuckles to the back of it with all his force. That hurt her, and she gave a cry, and twisted away from him and drew back; then, putting her left hand to his breast, she gave a great yaw, and then a forward rush with her mighty loins, and a contemporaneous shove with her amazing left arm, that would have pushed down some brick walls, and the weight and strength so suddenly applied sent Lally flying like a feather. His head struck the stone gate-post, and he measured his length under it.
Jael did not know how completely she had conquered him, and she ran in with a face as red as fire, and took the letter up to Grace, and was telling her, all in a heat, about the insolence of her new husband's Irish servant, when suddenly she half recognized the handwriting, and stood staring at it, and began to tremble.
“Why, what is the matter?” said Grace.
“Oh, nothing, miss. I'm foolish. The writing seems to me like a writing we shall never see again.” And she stood and trembled still more, for the handwriting struck her more and more.
Grace ran to her, and at the very first glance uttered a shriek of recognition. She caught it from Jael, tore it open, saw the signature, and sunk into a chair, half fainting, with the letter pressed convulsively to her breast.
Jael, trembling, but comparatively self-possessed, ran to the door directly and locked it.