ed him." Sir Arthur
appeared satisfied, and the conversation ended.

This slight conversation, repeated accurately to me by Emily, had the
effect of confirming, if indeed any thing was required to do so,
all that I had before believed as to Edward's actual presence; and I
naturally became, if possible, more anxious than ever to despatch the
letter to Mr. Jefferies. An opportunity at length occurred. As Emily
and I were walking one day near the gate of the demesne, a lad from
the village happened to be passing down the avenue from the house;
the spot was secluded, and as this person was not connected by service
with those whose observation I dreaded, I committed the letter to his
keeping, with strict injunctions that he should put it, without delay,
into the receiver of the town post-office; at the same time I added
a suitable gratuity, and the man having made many protestations of
punctuality, was soon out of sight. He was hardly gone when I began
to doubt my discretion in having trusted him; but I had no better
or safer means of despatching the letter, and I was not warranted in
suspecting him of such wanton dishonesty as a disposition to tamper
with it; but I could not be quite satisfied of its safety until I had
received an answer, which could not arrive for a few days. Before I
did, however, an event occurred which a little surprised me. I was
sitting in my bed-room early in the day, reading by myself, when I
heard a knock at the door. "Come in," said I, and my uncle entered the
room. "Will you excuse me," said he, "I sought you in the parlour, and
thence I have come here. I desired to say a word to you. I trust that
you have hitherto found my conduct to you such as that of a guardian
towards his ward should be." I dared not withhold my assent. "And,"
he continued, "I trust that you have not found me harsh or unjust,
and that you have perceived, my dear niece, that I have sought to make
this poor place as agreeable to you as may be?" I assented again;
and he put his hand in his pocket, whence he drew a folded paper, and
dashing it upon the table with startling emphasis he said, "Did you
write that letter?" The sudden and fearful alteration of his voice,
manner, and face, but more than all, the unexpected production of my
letter to Mr. Jefferies, which I at once recognised, so confounded and
terrified me, that I felt almost choking. I could not utter a word.
"Did you write that letter?" he repeated, with slow and int