“What right have you, pray, to handle my letters? How did you get this? It has never been posted! And open, too. I declare! I suppose you have read it?”
Margaret was afraid of exciting more wrath before she had an opportunity of explaining; but Euphra gave her no time to think of a reply.
“You have read it, you shameless woman! Why don’t you lie, like the rest of your tribe, and keep me from dying with indignation? Impudent prying! My maid never posted it, and you have found it and read it! Pray, did you hope to find a secret worth a bribe?”
She advanced on Margaret till within a foot of her.
“Why don’t you answer, you hussy? I will go this instant to your mistress. You or I leave the house.”
Margaret had stood all this time quietly, waiting for an opportunity to speak. Her face was very pale, but perfectly still, and her eyes did not quail. She had not in the least lost her self-possession. She would not say at once that she had read the letter, because that would instantly rouse the tornado again.
“You do not know my name, Miss Cameron; of course you could not.”
“Your name! What is that to me?”
“That,” said Margaret, pointing to the letter, “is my father’s name.”
Euphra looked at her own direction again, and then looked at Margaret. She was so bewildered, that if she had any thoughts, she did not know them. Margaret went on: