"Then she never gave it me," answered Frances, earnestly.
"Some negligence!" ejaculated Lord Winchester.
But the visitors who had been present were leaving, and their conversation was interrupted.
As soon as she was at liberty, Frances hastened to her room, and ringing for her maid, a chattering French girl, demanded if she had not received a note for her on the previous day.
"Most certainly," answered the girl, jabbering on with her false accent, and occasionally introducing a word of her native language. "It came when you were out, mademoiselle, and I placed it here on your toilet-table."
"Then where is it?" inquired Frances.
"Mais—I supposed you took it," replied the attendant, looking puzzled; and she was beginning to scan the ground, as if thinking it might have fallen there, when Miss Louisa Hildyard entered the apartment, and the servant was dismissed.
"I—I took the liberty, Frances," began Miss Hildyard, clearing her throat, and speaking in the mild, monotonous manner which distinguished her and her sister, "to open a letter yesterday which was addressed to you."
The thoughts of Frances reverted to the lost note, and the impetuous flush of anger rose to her brow. Her answer was delivered in a tone of the utmost astonishment:
"You—opened—a—letter—addressed—to—me!" was her exclamation, with a pause between every word.