Pensée rose from the table, and went up the stairs to the room where Brigit still knelt by Parflete's dead body.
“Dearest,” said Lady Fitz Rewes, “I think you ought to read this letter. I have had one also. Robert thinks of taking a great step, and perhaps——“
Her glance met Brigit's.
“No,” said Brigit, under her breath: “no.”
Then, with trembling hands, she read the letter once, twice, three times.
“Say something,” said Pensée, touching her. “Say something, Brigit.”
She smiled and held the letter to the candle flame. It caught fire and burnt away quickly while she held it.
“Mind your hand—it will catch your hand.”
“I don't feel it,” said Brigit. She bore the scar of that burn always.