My Mr.Mountain was a wretch, and every one of you is as bad." There was but a smouldering log or two in the fireplace, and no doubt Mountain saw that the paper was in no danger as it lay amongst the ashes, or she would have seized it at the risk of burning her own fingers, and ere she uttered the above passionate defence of her conduct.

Perhaps George was absorbed in his dismal thoughts; perhaps his jealousy overpowered him, for he did not resist any further when she stooped down and picked up the paper.
"You should thank your stars, child, that I saved the letter," cried she.

"See! here are his own words, in his great big handwriting like a clerk.

It was not my fault that he wrote them, or that I found them.
Read for yourself, I say, George Warrington, and be thankful that your poor dear old Mounty is watching over you!" Every word and letter upon the unlucky paper was perfectly clear.
George's eyes could not help taking in the contents of the document before him.

"Not a word of this, Mountain," he said, giving her a frightful look.