"I did," meekly replied Miss Louisa.
"And you presumed—was it from here? Did you find it here?" reiterated Frances, pointing to the dressing-table.
"It was—- I did," responded the elder lady, scarcely above a whisper, "and I am now come to converse—"
But Frances, with a perfect torrent of passion, overwhelmed her words. "And how could you—how dared you break the seal of a letter which bore my address? how dare you presume to stand in my presence and assert it?"
"The superscription was in Viscount Winchester's handwriting, and the seal bore his arms," was the placid reply. "A sufficient warranty for my proceeding, for I had suspected there was a private understanding going on between you, and deemed it my duty to look into it."
"And don't you know," exclaimed Frances, stamping her foot in her passion, "that the act you have been guilty of is so vile, that, but recently, one committing it was deemed worthy of a felon's death upon the scaffold? That degradation so utter can have been committed by my father's child!"
"This storm of passion and violence is very bad," deplored Miss Louisia Hildyard, crossing her hands upon her chest. "May the Virgin bring your mind to habitual meekness!"
"May the Virgin bring you to a sense of the shameful act you have stooped to, and keep you out of my apartments for the future!" retorted the exasperated girl, who, in truth to say, was looked upon as little better than a heathen, in religious matters, by her pious sisters.
Miss Louisa took a small ivory crucifix from her bosom, kissed it, and crossed herself, while ejaculating audible aspirations for patience.
"Retire from my presence," resumed Frances, haughtily, "and return to my maid, whom I will send after you, the letter you have robbed me of."