But when she saw the letter she was astonished no more.
The tinted perfumed paper, the large seal, the dainty handwriting, all were familiar of old.
Fierce indignation, unutterable contempt, and then a writhing sense of personal shame, as if she were somehow accountable for this insult, swept by turns over Christian's soul, until she recollected that she must betray nothing; for more than her own sake--her husband's--she must not put herself in her servant's power.
So she did not throw the letter in the fire, or stamp upon it, or do any of the frantic things she was tempted to do; she held it in her hand like a common note, and said calmly.
"Who brought this?
and when did, it come ?" "Last night, only I couldn't find you.

It was nigh dropping into Miss Gascoigne's hands, and a pretty mess that would have been.

And I warn you--you had better mind what you are about--Miss Susan Bennett told me all about it; and a nice little story it is, too, for a married lady.

And Miss Gascoigne has scented it out, I'll be bound and if Dr.Grey once gets hold of it--" "Stop!" said Christian, firmly, though she felt her very lips turning white.

"You are under some extraordinary delusion.