"You know the intimacy of Westfield with Anna. Put that fact alongside of these letters and their careful preservation, and what is your conclusion?"
"Accursed villain!" exclaimed W——, grinding his teeth and stamping upon the floor, his anger completely overmastering him. "His life shall pay the price of my sister's dishonour. Madness!"
"You think, then, as I do," said the husband, with forced calmness, "that confidence, nay, every thing sacred and holy, has been violated?"
"Can I doubt? If these were his sentiments," (holding up the letters of Westfield,) "before my sister's marriage, can they have changed immediately afterward. No, no; our confidence has been basely betrayed. But the wretch shall pay for this dearly."
On the next day W—— called upon Westfield in company with a friend who had possession of the letters, and who read them as a preliminary explanation of the cause of the visit.
"Did you write those letters?" W—— asked, with a stern aspect.
"I certainly did," was the firm reply. "Do you question my right to do so?"
"No: not your right to make known to my sister your sentiments before marriage, but your right to abuse her husband's confidence after marriage."
"Who dares say that I did?"
"I dare say it," returned the brother, passionately.