'I like--I value my jewels; but--I am alarmed lest the box should fall into hands--into strange hands.' 'The box!' he exclaimed with an outline of a comic grimace; and, if proved a voluptuary in torturing, he could instance half a dozen points for extenuation: her charm of person, withheld from him, and to be embraced; her innocent naughtiness; compensation coming to her in excess for a transient infliction of pain.

'Your anxiety is about the box ?' 'Yes, the box,' Aminta said firmly.

'It contains--' 'No false jewels?
A thief might complain.' 'It contains letters, my lord.' 'Blackmail ?' 'You would be at liberty to read them.

I would rather they were burnt.' 'Ah!' The earl heaved his chest prodigiously.

'Blackmail letters are better in a husband's hands, if they can be laid there.' 'If there is a necessity for him to read them--yes.' 'There may be a necessity, there can't be a gratification,--though there are dogs of thick blood that like to scratch their sores,' he murmured to himself.