"It is impossible," said Susannah firmly. "That was not put there to be overlooked; it will be repeated."
"If I could buy up the paper!" cried Selina frantically. "Who could be so wantonly cruel?"
"Do you not guess? Rose's wife."
"The Countess!"
"Who else? Only someone in his house could have this knowledge of his correspondence, and she is that manner of woman."
The outraged blood stormed Miss Boyle's cheeks.
"You mean—oh, Susannah, you cannot mean that she reads his letters!"
"I have no doubt at all," said Miss Chressham. "She and her maid spy on him, and on us, perpetually."
"You think she has read that letter of mine!" cried Selina faintly. "But it is not possible; he would never have left it about. What must she think of me? Oh, that I should come to tremble at what may be thought!"
"I see no cause to tremble," answered Susannah with resolution. "It is her shame, not yours. Who is she but an ill-bred spiteful woman?"