Miss Grantham said, in a voice which did not seem to belong to her: “It is from Mr Ravenscar.”
Lady Bellingham gave a moan, and reached for her smelling salts. “I knew it! Tell me the worst at once! He is going to have us all arrested!”
“No,” said Miss Grantham. “No.” She handed the packet to her aunt, feeling quite unable to say anything more.
Lady Bellingham took the packet in a gingerly fashion, but when she saw what it contained, she dropped her smelling salts, and ejaculated: “Deb! Deb, he has sent them!”
“I know,” said Miss Grantham.
“They are all here!” declared her ladyship, sorting them with trembling fingers. “Even the mortgage, my love! Oh, was there ever anything so providential? But—but why has he done it? Don’t tell me you have been teaching him anything dreadful”
Miss Grantham shook her head. “I can’t think why he has done it, aunt.”
“Did you tell him you would not marry Mablethorpe, and don’t care to own it to me? That is it!”
“It is not, ma’am. I told him I would marry Mablethorpe. I said I would ruin him, too.”
“Then I don’t understand it at all,” said Lady Bellingham, laying the packet down on her dressing-table. “You don’t suppose, do you, my love, that he can have misunderstood you?”