Fortunately, as she esteemed it, no one had been witness to her perturbation, or her quest, Reba and their aunt having, upon leaving the table, retired together to the boudoir of the latter.
Dire would have been Juliet's anger and alarm could she have known what had actually become of her missing treasure.
Miss Worth, in passing between the schoolroom and her own apartment, caught sight of a bit of paper lying on the floor at the head of the stairway, and stooping, picked it up.
There was neither seal nor superscription upon the outside; therefore there seemed nothing wrong or dishonorable in opening it, for indeed how otherwise was she to learn to whom it belonged in order to restore it?
One glance told who was the writer (for she was no stranger to his peculiar chirography), to whom it was addressed, and what it signified.
"My Angel, one o'clock A. M. to-morrow. Signal, cry of an owl beneath your window. Carriage in waiting beyond the hedge.
"Your adorer."
That was all, but it needed not another word to let her, whose eyes now scanned it in indignant sorrow fully into their plans.
She sent a quick glance around to satisfy herself that she was unseen, then crushing the missive in her hand, went on her way deeply thankful that Juliet had lost and that she had found it.