The maiden started, and blushed deeply.
“Catherine! what are you thinking of?” she repeated, fixing her dark eyes upon the girl, until they seemed to burn into her soul.
Kate looked guilty and bewildered, recovering herself by an effort, and answered, almost at random—
“This is not letter paper, madam, it is Bristol board.”
“Oh, well! there is writing paper in the other department of the desk, my child, get it out.”
Kate examined the contents of the desk, and then replied—
“There is no letter paper here, whatever, Mrs. Clifton.”
“What are those?”
“Only card boards and sketches, madam.”
“Sketches. That is just like Archer, to keep his sketches in his writing desk. His writing material will no doubt be found in his portfolio. But let me see those sketches, Catherine; I have not seen them yet, and they will be something new to me—almost like a recent letter from Archer. I like to look over his drawings; they always mean something apart from their subject, as it seems to me. I often think his sketches form a running commentary, though an involuntary one, on his life and thoughts! Hand them to me, my child.”