Nothing disturbing happened, and on the next night Agatha sat up after Mrs.Farnam had gone to bed, reading the letters Strange had written her from the North.
There were not many, and some were marked by a careless style that obscured the meaning.

This puzzled Agatha, who remembered that her father had generally talked with lucid clearness.

Still they helped her to picture the life he had led in the wilds, and she read them often, trying to follow on a map his wanderings in search of the lode.

They told her more about the country than the books she read, and she had read a number, because the subject had a fascination.

All she could learn would be of use when she came to carry out her plans.
When she tied up the letters and looked at the clock it was later than she thought.