In the morning, Cecily was already dressed when a servant brought letters to the sitting-room. There were three, and one of them, addressed to herself, had only the Naples postmark. She went back to her bedroom with it.
After breakfast Mrs. Lessingham spoke for a while of news contained in her correspondence; then of a sudden asked:
"You hadn't any letters?"
"Yes, aunt; one."
"My child, you are far from well this morning. The fever hasn't gone. Your face burns."
"Yes."
"May I ask from whom the letter was?"
"I have it here—to show you." A choking of her voice broke the sentence. She held out the letter. Mrs. Lessingham found the following lines:—
"DEAR CECILY,
"I have, of course, returned to Naples, and I earnestly hope I may see you between ten and eleven to-morrow morning. I must see you alone. You cannot reply; I will come and send my name in the ordinary way.