“And are these papers all his? What have you been doing with them?”
“My Lord told me to sort them.”
The words were drawn out against his own will.
“And those in your hand—on the chair. What are they?”
Ralph made one more violent effort to regain the mastery.
“If you were not a woman, Mistress Atherton, I should tell you you were insolent.”
Not a ripple troubled those strong eyes.
“Tell me, Mr. Torridon, what are they?”
He stood silent and furious.
“I will tell you what they are,” she said; “they are my Lord’s secrets. Is it not so? And you were about to burn them. Oh! Ralph, is it not so?”