. Mildred reflected that it was not often they got two
English mails in one day. She began idly turning over the packet
before her. Of late letters had lost much of their interest for
Mildred.

Presently, however, her hand made a movement of almost electric
swiftness, and the colour left her face as she seized a stout envelope
directed in a hand of peculiar delicacy to "Arthur Heigham, Esq., care
of Mrs. Carr, Madeira." Mildred knew the handwriting, she had seen it
in Arthur's pocket-book. It was Angela Caresfoot's. Next to it there
was another letter addressed to Arthur in a hand that she did not
know, but bearing the same postmarks, "Bratham" and "Roxham." She put
them both aside, and then took up the thick letter and examined it. It
had two peculiarities--first, it was open, having come unsealed in
transit, and been somewhat roughly tied up with a piece of twine; and
secondly, it contained some article of jewellery. Indeed, by dint of a
little pressing on the outside paper, she was able to form a pretty
accurate opinion as to what it was. It was a ring. If she had turned
pale before when she saw the letter, she was paler still now.

"Heavens," she thought, "why does she send him a ring? Has anything
happened to her husband? If she is a free woman, I am lost."

Mildred looked at the letter lying open before her, and a terrible
temptation took possession of her. She took it up and put it down
again, and then again she took it up, wiping the cold perspiration
from her forehead.

"My whole life is at stake," she thought.

Then she hesitated no longer, but, taking the letter, slipped off the
piece of twine, and drew its contents from the envelope. The first
thing to fall out, wrapped in a little cotton-wool, was the ring. She
looked at it, and recognized it as Arthur's engagement ring, the same
that Lady Bellamy had taken with her. Then, putting aside the
statement, she deliberately unfolded the letter, and read it.

Do not think too hardly of her, my reader. The temptation was very
sore. But, when one yields to temptation, retribution is not
unfrequently hard upon its track, and it would only have been
necessary to watch Mildred's face to see that, if she had sinned, the
sin went hand in hand with punishment. In turn, it took an expression
of astonishment, grief, awe, and despair. She read the letter to the
last word, then she took the statement, and glanced through it,
smiling once or twice as she read. Next she