Evelyn reached her room without encountering any one, although she was mortally afraid of meeting Nellie, and after locking her door sat down before her glowing grate, where with a sharp penknife she carefully unsealed the envelope inclosing Salome’s letter and drew forth its closely written contents. The morning was very dark, for a severe storm was raging, and she found that she must have more light before she could read it. She arose, and carelessly laid the open letter on the mantel, and then went to draw back the heavy curtains from her windows. The several sheets of paper, which had not been thoroughly creased in the haste in which Salome had folded them, began to creep apart, and having been carelessly laid too near the edge of the mantel slipped off—would probably only have fallen to the floor had not a gust of wind at that moment increased the draft to the chimney, when the ill-fated missive was sucked directly in upon the bed of red-hot coals in the grate. Instantly it was in flames, and when Evelyn turned to see what had caused the sudden ruddy glow in the room, it was past all hope of recovery and the blackened flakes of the consuming paper were being rapidly drawn up the chimney. A look of consternation swept over her face as she contemplated the ruins before her, and then gave place to one of excessive anger at being foiled in her design to penetrate the mystery which seemed to surround her brother’s wife. “What an idiot I was not to be more careful,” she muttered passionately as she watched, with covetous eye, the last of the fragments disappear up the black-throated chimney. “What shall I do?” She could of course do nothing but endure her wrath and disappointment and make the best of a bad matter. She would never humble herself enough to confess to Salome or any one else what she had done, and so her only alternative was to make sure of not being detected by burning the envelope also, and then let matters adjust themselves as they would. She was long in recovering from her wrath, and she found it no easy matter to dissemble and go down to breakfast with a serene brow and composed manner when the bell rang for that meal. CHAPTER XIV. SALOME RECEIVES HER SENTENCE. Madame Winthrop herself did not appear to be in a very amiable frame of mind that morning, and it was evident to Evelyn that her failure to bring Salome into subjection to her demands the previous day still irritated her excessively. “Where is your mistress?” she curtly demanded of Nellie as she entered the dining-room upon some errand. “She is ill; she is not able to come down this morning,” the girl replied. “What is the matter?” “I don’t know, marm; but she did not sleep well last night.” So madam and her daughter breakfasted by themselves, and then withdrew to madam’s room, when she revealed a plot which she had spent most of the night in concocting. Evelyn listened aghast.