of the most agonizing suspense, she gave no other sign of the terror under which she laboured. Kindly approaching, he took her hand.
"That packet of letters is for me," she said in a firm low voice. "The superscription bears my name," said the duke, hesitating. "Yet if—if by any mistake—any negligence—"—"There is no mistake, my lord," said the servant advancing. "Leave us," cried Lady Margaret, with a voice that resounded throughout the apartment; and then again faltering, and fainting at the effort, she continued: "Those letters are mine:—my enemy and your's has betrayed them:—Viviani may exhibit the weakness and folly of a woman's heart to gratify his revenge; but a generous brother should disdain to make himself the instrument of his barbarous, his unmanly cruelty." "Take them, "said the duke, with gentleness: "I would not read them for the world's worth.
