I was glad to find in it several pounds in gold and silver. Some extra cash would be extremely handy to me in present circumstances, and would no doubt be far more useful to me than to her, I thought. Then I turned to the pocket-book half of the purse, and began to explore that also. Here there were some postage stamps, a set of directions for some kind of fancy-work that was just then all the fashion, and a letter addressed to the Hon. Katherine Mervyn--which last was a conclusive proof that my conjecture as to the ownership of the purse was right. I took the liberty of unfolding and reading the letter, which was a heavy bill for gloves and fans. The largeness of the amount caused me a surprise, which was soon changed into envy as I reflected that I, too, might have been in a state to require a similar profusion of these articles, if my step-mother had not unjustly shut me off from the privileges of my age and rank in life. It was strange how the perusal of that bill, and the thought that it had been incurred by a girl no older than myself, irritated me afresh against Lady Trecastle, and increased my former sense of being a much injured and aggrieved mortal! The bill, stamps, and work directions appeared at first sight to comprise the whole contents of the pocket-book; I was about to shut it up under that impression, when I bethought me that I was in want of a new purse, as mine was a good deal worn, and that if Kitty's was in good condition I had better substitute it for my own. This idea made me take up again the one I had found, and look it over carefully. The close inspection revealed an inner pocket underneath the flap of the other, and ingeniously contrived so as not to attract notice. Within this sly hiding-place was a piece of cardboard wrapped in silver paper, which, on being opened, disclosed the photograph of a very good-looking young man in military uniform. My curiosity was aroused as to who the original might be, and I turned it round and round in hopes of discovering some name or initial; there was, however, nothing of the kind except the name of the photographer to be found, and so my curiosity remained unsatisfied. Whoever could that young man be? I wondered, and why was he so interesting to Kitty that she carried his picture about with her, done up and concealed with such care? It was not a brother, as I knew that she had none. Was she engaged to be married, and was it the likeness of her future husband? Only in that case the portrait would be more likely to be carried openly than to be thus hidden away in the inmost recess of her purse, as if it were a thing to be ashamed of.