The next moment it was entirely secreted in her bosom.

She sauntered in-doors, and scudded upstairs to her room to read it.
The writer told her in a few agitated words that their fathers had met, and he must speak to her directly.

Would she meet him for a moment at the garden gate at nine o'clock that evening?
"No, no, no!" cried Mary, as if he was there.

She was frightened.

Suppose they should be caught.