"And you—you write like this, because you think it would make the child unhappy if she knew the truth. How long do you think you can manage to keep up this farce, eh?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. I can't look forward," she muttered hurryingly. "I must just do what I can—as long as I can."
He tossed the letter upon the table. "Seal it down and put it in the bag, for the lie it is," he said thickly.
She sat down obediently to re-seal the envelope. He stood watching her, with eyes full of baffled purpose. Upon them there entered Hemming, bearing a locked post-bag in his hand.
Gaunt unlocked it with a key which was fastened to his watch-chain, took out the contents, placed his own correspondence and his wife's one letter within, relocked the bag, and handed it to the man, who retired.
The letters lay behind him in a little pile. He sorted them, and selected one in a childish, unformed hand, addressed to Mrs. Gaunt.
"Of course," he said, "I also read all the letters you receive."
"I suppose so," replied Virginia dryly.
She felt that her limbs would no longer support her, and sat down white and shaking, clenching her hands together while again silence fell and Gaunt read:
Virgie, my own darling, I must use up the time while you are being married, in writing to say O my sweet dear I hope God will let you be hapy like you deserve to be. I am so sorry I did not see Osbert when he came hear, but you must send me his foto, then I shall know what he is like. O, it is nise to think you will alwas have enuf to eat now. You used to think I did not notice when you gave it all to Tony and me, but I did. I knew too that morning when you fainted over scrubing the kitchen floor, when you came up with that wet stain on your apron I knew because I caled so many times and you did not answer. Now you will be rich and grand and hapy, and you must not think I shall fret, because I don't mean to. Carroline is a nise woman, very kind to me, but O Virgie, I shall not be so hapy with Mamma now you are not hear to keep her pleased, I hope it is not rong to write this. It must be so funny to have a husband, give him my love if you think he would like it, are your nees well yet? Mind you don't walk too far till they are. Have you dissided which room is to be mine when I come to Omberleigh? Do let it look out on the yard so I can see the chickens. Good-bye, darling, DARLING,