The next morning, when our man brought the letters from town, I noticed Mrs. Dennison examining one which she took from among those left on the hall-table, with the keen look of a person whose suspicion has been aroused. In tearing it open, she examined the adhesive edge a second time, and apparently found it all right, for her face cleared up, and she put the letter in her pocket without reading it. Still she could not have been quite satisfied, for after that no letters of hers were ever left with those of the family to be mailed. CHAPTER XL. YOUNG BOSWORTH RECEIVES A LETTER. That day I resolved to go and see young Bosworth. I had no lover to get jealous or find fault with this; indeed, it was doubtful if any one cared enough about my movements to observe them when disconnected from the family. I had no heart to enjoy the walk; it was a cold, raw day, with gloomy clouds floating along the sky, and gloomier shadows sweeping the earth. The dampness of a night succeeded by no sunshine lay upon the meadows; spiders' webs were stretched across my path; and a rain of moisture fell from the hazel-bushes as my garments brushed them in walking. Still, it was not absolutely stormy, and the gray shadows harmonized with my feelings so completely, that I had no wish to change them. Nothing could be more gloomy than my own heart. When I reached the house, old Mrs. Bosworth came to the door herself. She seemed a good deal disturbed, and I fancied, from the heaviness of her eyes, that she had been crying. "Come in, Miss Hyde," she said, taking my hand. "He is not so well this morning. Indeed, indeed he is much worse. A letter came here last night, and I was foolish enough to let it go to him. One of your people brought it, and I fancied, perhaps, that it might do him good, for it was a lady's handwriting, and she was so kind that morning." "You thought it was from our Jessie," I answered, in the first impulse of my surprise. "Yes, it was a foolish thought, I dare say,--but that was my idea." "And have you learned whom it did come from?" "No," answered the noble old lady. "He fainted, and it fell from his hand; but I laid it under his pillow without even looking at it; it might have wounded him, you know." "And is he so much worse?" "Oh, Miss Hyde, the fever has come back; he is wild again." "And had you no way of guessing the cause?" "I think it was something about Mr. Lawrence, for he called for him till the house rang with his cries, after the first dumb shock went off." "Did Mr. Lawrence know of this?" "He was away at the time; and after that your young friend's name was so wildly mingled up with it all, that I could not think it right to bring Mr. Lawrence to the room. It would have seemed like challenging his compassion." My heart ached, for I saw that her penetration had discovered Jessie's secret, and that she was protecting it with much delicacy.