Here would be revenge—revenge she had always longed for! while her sullen rage had been gathering all these last days. She heard the groom of the chambers approaching to collect the letters; she must decide at once. So she slipped Theodora's two missives into her blouse and walked towards the door.
"There is another post which goes at seven, isn't there, Edgarson?" she asked, "and the letters are delivered in London to-morrow morning just the same?"
"Yes, ma'am, they arrive by the second post in London," said the man, politely, and she passed on to her room.
Arrived there, excitement and triumph burned all over her. Here, without a chance of detection, she could crush her rival and see her thoroughly punished, and—who knows?—Hector might yet be caught in the rebound.
She would not hesitate a second. She rang for her maid.
"Bring me my little kettle and the spirit-lamp. I want to sip some boiling water," she said. "I have indigestion. And then you need not wait—I shall read until tea."
She was innocently settled on her sofa with a book when the maid returned. She was a well-bred servant, and silently placed the kettle and glass and left the room noiselessly. Morella sprang to her feet with unusual agility. Her heavy form was slow of movement as a rule.
The door once locked, she returned to the sofa and began operations.
The kettle soon boiled, and the steam puffed out and achieved its purpose.
The thin, hand-made paper of the envelope curled up, and with no difficulty she opened the flap.