"Here are some things for you, cards and notes," said Margaret to her sister, as she opened a drawer of the writing-table: "one from Mrs Grey, marked `Private.' I do not suppose your husband may not see it; but that is your affair. My duty is to give it you privately." "One of the Grey mysteries, I suppose," said Hester, colouring, and tearing open the letter with some vehemence: "These mysteries were foolish enough before; they are ridiculous now. So, you are going out?" cried she, as her husband came in with his hat on. "Yes; the old lady will be the easier for my seeing her this evening; and I shall carry her the Polar Sea. Where is pen and ink, Margaret? We do not know the ways of our own house yet." Margaret brought pen and ink; and while Mr Hope wrote down the dates in the Book Society's list, Hester exclaimed against Mrs Grey for having sent her a letter marked "Private," now that she was married. "If you mean it not to be private, you shall tell me about it when I come back," said her husband. "If I see Mrs Enderby to-night, I must be gone." It was not twenty minutes before he was seated by his own fireside again. His wife looked disturbed; and was so; she even forgot to inquire after Mrs Enderby. "There is Mrs Grey's precious letter!" said she. "She may mean to be very kind to me: I dare say she does: but she might know that it is not kindness to write so of my husband." "I do not see that she writes any harm of me, my dear," said he, laying the letter open upon the table. "She only wants to manage me a little: and that is her way, you know." "So exceedingly impertinent!" cried Hester, turning to Margaret. "She wants me to use my influence, quietly, and without betraying her, to make my husband--," she glanced into her husband's face, and checked her communication. "In short," she said, "Mrs Grey wants to be meddling between my husband and one of his patients." "Well, what then?" said Margaret. "What then? Why, if she is to be interfering already in our affairs--if she is to be always fancying that she has anything to do with Edward,-- and we living so near,--I shall never be able to bear it." And Hester's eyes overflowed with tears. "My dear! is it possible?" cried Edward. "Such a trifle--." "It is no trifle," said Hester, trying to command her voice; "it can never be a trifle to me that any one shows disrespect to you. I shall never be able to keep terms with any one who does." Margaret believed that nothing would be easier than to put a stop to any such attempts--if indeed they were serious. Mrs Grey was so fond of Hester that she would permit anything from her; and it would be easy for Hester to say that, not wishing to receive any exclusively private letters, she had shown Mrs Grey's to her husband, though to no one else: and that it was to be the principle of the family not to interfere, more or less, with Mr Hope's professional affairs.