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"Sending a letter to our Fanny! Who ever heard of
such assurance! Oh! I knew that some trouble would come of his visit
here. I felt it the moment I set my eyes on him. Keep the letter
from Fanny? Of course you will; and when you have a talk with Edward
about it, just let me be there; I want my say."
"It is too late," murmured the unhappy mother, in a low, sad voice.
"Too late! How? What do you mean, Agnes?"
"Fanny has the letter already."
"What!" There was a sharp, thrusting rebuke in the voice of Aunt
Grace, that seemed like a sword in the heart of Mrs. Markland.
"She stood by me when I opened her father's letter, enclosing the
one for her. I did not dream from whence it came, and handed it to
her without a thought."
"Agnes! Agnes! What have you done?" exclaimed Aunt Grace, in a
troubled voice.
"Nothing for which I need reproach myself," said Mrs. Markland, now
grown calmer. "Had the discretion been left with me, I should not
have given Fanny the letter until Edward returned. But it passed to
her hands through no will of mine.


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