Read that.

I have no right to show it you--and no right to refuse.' Beatrice held the letter for a brief space without turning her eyes upon it.

Wilfrid walked to a distance, and at length she read.

Emily had recounted every circumstance of her father's death, and told the history of her own feelings, all with complete simplicity, almost coldly.

Only an uncertainty in the hand-writing here and there showed the suffering it had cost her to look once more into the very eyes of the past.