It happened to catch Sophia's eye before it caught mine--and its size, the elegance of the paper, the hand-writing altogether, immediately gave her a suspicion.

Some vague report had reached her before of my attachment to some young lady in Devonshire, and what had passed within her observation the preceding evening had marked who the young lady was, and made her more jealous than ever.

Affecting that air of playfulness, therefore, which is delightful in a woman one loves, she opened the letter directly, and read its contents.

She was well paid for her impudence.
She read what made her wretched.

Her wretchedness I could have borne, but her passion--her malice--At all events it must be appeased.
And, in short--what do you think of my wife's style of letter-writing ?--delicate--tender--truly feminine--was it not ?" "Your wife!--The letter was in your own hand-writing." "Yes, but I had only the credit of servilely copying such sentences as I was ashamed to put my name to.