How well she remembered the words, and now she had found them, as her aunt had told her, in the possession of Helen Capel, now Lady Randal.
They had been kept back from the honest, faithful lover, who was only waiting for this permission to fly to the side of his betrothed and comfort her, by the hand of this treacherous woman, who had thus ruthlessly wrecked a human life, yea, two lives!
How strange, Brownie thought, that the note should thus have fallen into her hands.
“Surely, there is Providence in it,” she murmured, as, with one swift glance to see that Lady Ruxley was not observing her, she hid it in her bosom, and then hurriedly completed her task.
The operetta was sent to Lady Randal, and the box of papers returned to their accustomed place; but all day long Brownie felt as if a mountain was crushing her heart, with that little paper lying in her bosom.
She felt she could not breathe in the same house and under the same roof which sheltered the woman who had deliberately planned to entrap a young and guileless girl into disgracing both herself and her lover, that she might separate them forever, hoping to win him for herself.
She wondered if Lady Ruxley knew of her share in the event, or if Lord Dunforth had ever found it out.
Probably not, since they were still good friends, and had he known of it he could not have forgiven so bitter a wrong.
The more she thought of these things, the more her heart rebelled against them, until she grew so restless and nervous that she nearly cried out with pain whenever any one spoke to her.
About four o’clock, finding that Lady Ruxley was sleeping, she stole out, thinking to get away into the sunshine and calm herself, and perhaps Adrian would come ere long, and she could share her burden with him; at all events, he would comfort her.