“Is he ever sensible?” she faintly asked.
“He has not been really rational for nearly ten days now.”
“If—if—oh! you know what I mean. Oh! gain his pardon for me!” and she covered her face with her hand.
“Poor Frank!—it is of your pardon that he talks. Tell me, Eleonora, did you ever receive a letter from my mother?”
“Never. Where was it sent?” she said, starting.
“To Revelrig. It was written the day after the ball.”
“I never went to Revelrig. Oh! if I could have spoken to you first I should have been saved from so much that was wrong. No one knew where I was.”
“No, not till Sister Margaret told Herbert Bowater that her sisters had been at a ball at the town-hall the week before. Then he saw she was Miss Strangeways, and asked if she knew where you were.”
“Ah, yes! disobedience—tacit deception—temper. Oh! they have brought their just punishment. But that letter!”
“I think it was to explain poor Frank’s conduct at the races. Perhaps, as the servants at Revelrig had no knowledge of you, it may have been returned, and my mother’s letter have been left untouched. I will see.”