This letter M.Paul, with his unwarrantably interfering habits, had taken from the portress, and now delivered it himself.
I might have been angry, but had not a second for the sensation.

Yes: I held in my hand not a slight note, but an envelope, which must, at least, contain a sheet: it felt not flimsy, but firm, substantial, satisfying.

And here was the direction, "Miss Lucy Snowe," in a clean, clear, equal, decided hand; and here was the seal, round, full, deftly dropped by untremulous fingers, stamped with the well-cut impress of initials, "J.

G.B." I experienced a happy feeling--a glad emotion which went warm to my heart, and ran lively through all my veins.

For once a hope was realized.