"I felt confused and ashamed, and stammered some vague attempt at an apology. She made light of my intrusion; but one thing attracted my attention particularly. Just as the maid set the lights upon the table in the centre of the room, I thought that I recognised my mother's handwriting in the letter which she now hastily folded up and thrust into her reticule. As I mentioned, she had been weeping over it. This set my imagination to work; I could not divine on what theme my mother could write to her; still less what subject for grief they could have between them. I inquired if she was well; she said 'yes, as well as usual, but exhausted for want of sleep the previous night.' I instantly connected her want of sleep and restlessness with my mother's letter; and before I had sufficiently reflected upon the import of the question, I asked her whether her first acquaintance with my mother had not been formed during her late visit to the springs. She answered in the affirmative. 'But why do you ask?' said she, searchingly. 'For no particular reason, but the question occurred to me, from seeing the handwriting of the letter you have just folded up. I thought it strange that you should receive a letter from my mother, when I have received none,' 'This letter,' said she, 'was not received at this place; I was merely refreshing my memory with its contents.' 'It is not often,' said I, 'that my mother writes so as to bring tears into the eyes of her friends, and if you would not consider the expression of the wish too impertinent, and that too when I have little expectation of its being granted, I would say that I never before had so much curiosity to see one of her letters.' "'Your curiosity,' said she, 'should be gratified immediately, but this letter alludes to circumstances which would perhaps be uninteresting to you; but even were they otherwise, it would excite your curiosity still more to read the letter, when I am unable to give such explanations _now_ as it requires.' "'You labour under a most grievous error,' said I, 'if you suppose there are any circumstances connected in any way with the present distress of Miss Frances St. Clair, which would be uninteresting to me. The express object of my visit to-night was to ask that very explanation. It may seem strange and impertinent that I should seek that which you evidently avoid; but my excuse is, and it is the only one that I can plead, that this is your last evening in the city; will Miss St. Clair be offended, if I acknowledge that upon this explanation turns my happiness? I am fearful of giving offence by acknowledging that any previous history is necessary of one who carries in her countenance a refutation of all calumnies.'