"I am not sure it would have been wicked; indeed, I am sure it would not have been," said the husband, soothingly. "But if you have not read it, how do you know it is from your cousin?" he asked.
"As if I didn't know his writing!" said poor weeping Sarah, adding, "though it is so long since I saw any of it. But I did look at the beginning and end; and it says, 'My dear cousin Sarah' at the top, and 'Your affectionate cousin, Walter Wilson,' at the bottom; and that is how I know it. But I didn't read another word, John, indeed I didn't," said she, very earnestly. "And I have brought it for you to read, or to put in the fire, just which you please, John."
"I think we had better read it before we burn it, at all events," he gravely replied, as he held out his hand for the suspected treasonable epistle.
"Don't read it out loud, please, if there is anything in it that I shouldn't hear," said the frightened wife, as she gave it to him.
"Oh, certainly not," said the husband, smiling.
And then he commenced reading the first page of the letter, while Sarah sat with her eyes directed to his, ready, as it seemed, like a timid bird, to take wing on the first symptoms of displeasure or alarm.
But no such symptoms appeared, only that John's usually quiet and sedate countenance gradually became sorrowful, and at last his eyes had tears in them ready to start.
"Oh, John, what is it?" exclaimed Sarah, forgetting that she had not wanted to hear a word of the letter.
Before answering the question, John read on to the end, then he turned to Sarah.
"Your cousin is in great trouble," he said.