“Please call me Ursula. We shall be cousins when I am Rupert Valentine’s wife. Do you know, Rosamund, that I have taken an immense fancy to you!”
“What! you have taken a fancy to a wicked young woman!”
“Yes, yes; particularly as she is in reality more naughty than wicked. Rosamund, why did you not come to the Chamber of Myths at the appointed day and hour?”
“I gave Captain Valentine my reason.”
“Pardon me, you did not give him any adequate reason; but it is so easy to deceive a man. Now, I want the truth. Come, Rosamund, confide in me. You know that letter contains news of the deepest interest to you, perhaps to me, perhaps to others. Ah, you blush! I have hit upon the truth.”
I had been sitting when Lady Ursula began to speak, now I stood up.
“As far as any one can predict the future, Lady Ursula,” I said, “the contents of my Cousin Geoffrey Rutherford’s letter will never be known except to the two people who are already in possession of the secret.”
“Who are they?”
“I am one, Mr Gray is the other. Think what you like about the letter, Lady Ursula, you are never, never likely to know more of its contents than you do at this moment.”
Lady Ursula was a person largely blessed with the bump of curiosity, but she was also a lady, and she knew when to stop.