"It is because she's going out," remarked Mary Carr to Eleanor.
"Is it, though!" put in Emma Mowbray; "that's only a little item in the cause. She has just had a love-letter from Mr. Marlborough."
Eleanor Seymour's cheek changed.
"Don't talk absurdities," said Mary Carr to the Mowbray girl.
"Absurdities!" she retorted, moving away. "If I can, I'll convince you."
A minute or two, and she came back with a letter in her hand--an open letter, addressed in George Marlborough's hand to Rose--and handed it to Mary Carr.
"Am I to read it?" asked the latter.
"If you choose. It is pro bono publico, Rose says." And Miss Carr read the letter aloud.
"My Dearest,
"You must have been surprised not to see me at Sir Sandy's. I was dressing to come, when a message arrived for me from the Hôtel du Nord; poor Priestley had met with a sad accident to his hand from the bursting of a gun. I have been sitting up with him until now, four o'clock a.m., but I write this to you before I sleep, for you have a right now to my every thought, to know every movement. You dine here today, my fair fiancée also; but I wish you were coming alone.