"Barbara!" said Frank, whose intended firmness had all melted away before her haggard appearance, "Barbara!" and he rose and put out his hand to draw her to him. "Don't touch me!" she screamed, starting back. "Don't lay one finger upon me until until you have answered my question. This morning you left this envelope on the dressing-table; tell me who is the writer and what were the contents." She tossed an envelope on to the desk as she spoke, and leant with one hand against the wall. "That envelope," said Frank, speaking very slowly, "is mine. I utterly deny your right to ask me any thing about it; I utterly refuse to satisfy your curiosity." "Curiosity! it is not that; God knows it is not that feeling merely that prompts me: This is the second time you have, to my knowledge, received letters in that writing. The first time was at Bissett, when you left suddenly, immediately after its receipt. I suspected then, but had no right to ask; now I have the right, and I demand to know!" "I can only repeat what I said before: I most positively decline to tell you." "Beware, Frank! You ought to know me by this time; but you don't. If you don't satisfy me on this point, I leave you for ever." "You have your answer," said Frank; "now let me get to my work." "You still refuse?" "You heard what I said." She drew herself up and left the room; the next minute he heard the street-door shut, and, running to the dining-room window, saw her hail a cab and get into it. "There's the first lesson, at all events," said he to himself. "When she comes back to dinner, she will be cooler, and more amenable to reason." He finished his work, and walked down with it to the _Statesman_ Office. On his return he found a commissionaire in the hall talking to his servant. He asked the latter where her mistress was, but the girl said she had not come in, at the same time handing him a letter. It was very brief; it merely said: "You have decided; and henceforth you and I never meet again. Mrs. Schröder, with whom I am staying, will send her maid for a box which I have left ready packed. I hope you may be more happy with your correspondent, and in your return to your old life, than you have been with B. C." As Frank Churchill read this, the lines wavered before his eyes, and he reeled against the wall. CHAPTER XXIX. MR. SCADGERS PAYS A VISIT.