'Something? What sort of thing?' I asked, as if I myself could have no idea.
'Oh, she has never told me,' Miss Tita answered; and I was sure she was speaking the truth.
Her extreme limpidity was almost provoking, and I felt for the moment that she would have been more satisfactory if she had been less ingenuous. 'Do you suppose it's something to which Jeffrey Aspern's letters and papers—I mean the things in her possession—have reference?'
'I daresay it is!' my companion exclaimed, as if this were a very happy suggestion. 'I have never looked at any of those things.'
'None of them? Then how do you know what they are?'
'I don't,' said Miss Tita, placidly. 'I have never had them in my hands. But I have seen them when she has had them out.'
'Does she have them out often?'
'Not now, but she used to. She is very fond of them.'
'In spite of their being compromising?'
'Compromising?' Miss Tita repeated, as if she was ignorant of the meaning of the word. I felt almost as one who corrupts the innocence of youth.
'I mean their containing painful memories.'
'Oh, I don't think they are painful.'
'You mean you don't think they affect her reputation?'
At this a singular look came into the face of Miss Bordereau's niece—a kind of confession of helplessness, an appeal to me to deal fairly, generously with her. I had brought her to the Piazza, placed her among charming influences, paid her an attention
