“Would that I might be suffered a participation in that charge, Miss Dalton,” cried Mrs. Ricketts, with enthusiasm, “and allowed to hold some converse with you on doctrinal questions!” “Try her with the posers, sister,” whispered Purvis. “Hush, Scroope! Mere opportunities of friendly discussion, nothing more I ask for, Miss Dalton.” “Give her the posers,” whispered Purvis, louder. “Be quiet, Scroope. I have been fortunate enough to resolve the doubts of more than one ere this. That dear angel, the Princess Ethelinda of Cobourgh, I believe I may say, owes her present enlightenment to our sweet evenings together.” “Begin with the posers.” “Hush! I say, Scroope.” “May I ask,” said Kate, “what is the suggestion Mr. Purvis has been good enough to repeat?” “That I should give you this little tract, Miss Dalton,” said Mrs. Ricketts as she drew out a miscellaneous assemblage of articles from a deep pocket, and selected from the mass a small blue-covered pamphlet, bearing the title, “Three Posers for Papists, by M. R.” “Montague Ricketts,” said Purvis, proudly; “she wrote it herself, and the Pope won't let us into Rome in consequence. It 's very droll, too; and the part about the the Vir-gin--” “You will, I 'm sure, excuse me, madam,” said Kate, “if I beg that this subject be suffered to drop. My thanks for the interest this gentleman and yourself have vouchsafed me will only be more lasting by leaving the impression of them unassociated with anything unpleasing. You were good enough to say that you had a letter for me?” “A letter from your father, that dear, fond father, who dotes so distractingly upon you, and who really seems to live but to enjoy your triumphs. Martha, where is the letter?” “I gave it to Scroope, sister.” “No, you didn't. I never saw--” “Yes, Scroope, I gave it to you, at the drawing-room fire--” “Yes, to be sure, and I put it into the ca-ca-ca--” “Not the candle, I hope,” cried Kate, in terror. “No, into the card-rack; and there it is now.” “How provoking!” cried Miss Ricketts; “but you shall have it to-morrow, Miss Dalton. I 'll leave it here myself.” “Shall I appear impatient, madam, if I send for it this evening?” “Of course not, my dear Miss Dalton; but shall I commit the precious charge to a menial's hand?” “You may do so with safety, madam,” said Kate, not without a slight irritation of manner as she spoke. “Mr. Foglass, the late minister and envoy at--”