* * * * *
Not until her return to her room does Dora remember that she did not get
back the false letter from her cousin. In the heat of the conversation
she had forgotten it, but now, a fear possessing her lest Florence
should show it to any one, she runs upstairs and knocks at Miss
Delmaine's door.
"Come in," calls Florence slowly.
It is three hours since she went for her unhappy walk to the lime-grove,
and now she is composed again, and is waiting for the gong to sound
before descending to the drawing-room, where she almost dreads the
thought that she will be face to face with Sir Adrian. She is dressed
for dinner, has indeed taken most particular pains with her toilet, if
only to hide the ravages that these past three hours of bitter weeping
have traced upon her beautiful face. She looks sad still, but calm and
dignified.
Dora is dressed too, but is looking flurried and flushed.
"I beg your pardon," she says; "but my letter--the letter I showed you
to-day--have you it?"
"No," replies Florence simply; "I thought I gave it back to you; but,
if not, it must be here on this table"--lifting a book or two from the
small gypsy-table near which she had been sitting when Dora came to her
room early in the day.
Dora looks for it everywhere, in a somewhat nervous, frightened manner,
Florence helping her the while; but nothing comes of their search, and
they are fain to go down-stairs without it, as the gong sounding loudly
tells them they are already late.
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