"I should not. Why should I? But I fancy he did not wish anyone else to see it. I could tell you what there was in it, just as well. And then, dear Mr. Taylor, you will see why he wrote at such length to me about it. You must be wondering."
"I was."
"It was simply this.... By-the-bye, I dare say you heard how he set me on fire—that night we had the dance?... No?... Well, it was all connected with that. You know this Marianne of his would keep on refusing to come and see us, and I asked him to show me her letter with a message to me in it. We were out in our little Tophet garden, and it was too dark to read it. I thought one could read by moonlight, or I wouldn't have asked for it. Mr. Challis lighted a vesta for me to read by, and set me on fire ... well—yes—I was just a little burned, on this shoulder. The worst of it was, her letter caught fire, and was burned to a cinder."
"But what harm did that do? She didn't want it back."
"No, she didn't. But there were two or three words on the back he hadn't read, and I couldn't tell him what they were. It seems she was surprised at his making no reference to them; and since he told me in his letter what he surmises they were, I can't say I wonder. I should have been."
"What were they? Or what does he suppose them to have been?"
"He might not like me to say, because she can never have meant them to be seen. It doesn't matter what they were...."
"Certainly, certainly! I quite understand."
"If he had known of them, he would have refused to show me the letter. As it turned out, it was most unfortunate. Because he said nothing except that he had given me her message to read...." Judith faltered—was coming to the difficult part.
"'Message to read,'" said the Rector connectively. "Yes?"