Accordingly, Augusta seated herself calmly on a small chair which stood by, and untying the packet, proceeded to read the letters. She read them one after the other. There were only three or four, and nothing could be plainer than their meaning. The colour rushed into Augusta’s cheeks as she perused them, and her eyes grew very bright. Having finished them, she sat silent for a minute; then, tying them up again so as to look exactly as they had done before, she returned them to their place in the secret drawer. She pushed back the hinge, shut the outer drawer and locked it, and, with the little box in her hand, went upstairs. She had been longer than she thought, for Justine, in some impatience, was waiting for her.
“I was just coming down to the drawing-room to look for you, Miss Augusta,” she said.
“Oh! I didn’t hurry,” said Augusta; “I thought you would be at your dinner.”
“I could not eat, miss, my head was that bad. And, oh dear! time is going; I have to leave here not a minute later than half-past two. Is that the box, miss?”
“Yes; and here is the key. I wonder, Justine,” she added——
“Yes, miss.”
“I don’t know whether I ought to say it, but—don’t you think it would simplify matters if you didn’t tell that you had forgotten to speak to Captain Richmond of this?”
Justine coloured.
“But if I kept it secret you would tell.”
“Indeed I would not. Why should I get you into a scrape, poor Justine, situated as you are?”