‘I–I wish you to read them,’ she said, with a heightened colour. ‘Read this of Avice Wellfield’s first.’
She gave it to him, and he read it; then said:
‘Poor little girl! she is in great distress. Is it allowable to ask what you replied, and whether you intend to keep up the correspondence?’
‘Not if you object in the least,’ said Sara, hastily.
‘I? No. I would not insult you with such an objection if you wrote to and heard from her twice a day,’ he replied, with a rather proud smile.
‘Thank you. And now this from Countess Carla. It has disturbed me very much.’
He read that too, and his countenance also changed.
‘This disturbed you–why?’ he asked.
Sara withdrew her hand from his arm, and sat down.
‘I ought to speak about something,’ she faltered; ‘about the future. Everyone–all the world knows that I am married to you. I cannot go on living here just as if nothing had happened, and yet—’