The Painted Lady had never got any letters while she was in Thrums, but she looked wistfully at those of other people.

"They are so pretty," she had said; "but don't open them: when you open them they break your heart." Grizel remembered what her mother had said.
Had the old Grizel feared what might be inside, it would have made her open the letter more quickly.

Two minds to one person were unendurable to her.

But she seemed to be a coward now.

It was pitiable.
Perhaps it was quite a common little letter, beginning "Dear Grizel," and saying nothing more delicious or more terrible than that he wanted her to lend him one of the doctor's books.