The postbag was lying on the table, and directly after family prayers
(which she had for some years begun when at home), Mrs. Brownlow
beguiled her nervousness by opening it, and distributing the letters.
The first she opened was such a startling one, that her head seemed
to reel, and she doubted whether the shock of last night was
confusing her senses.
"MY DEAR MRS. BROWNLOW,—-What will you think of us now that the full
truth has burst on you? Of me especially, to whom you entrusted your
dear daughter. I never could have thought that Nita would have lent
herself to the transaction, and alas! I let the two girls take care
of themselves more than was right. However, I can at least give you
the comfort of knowing that it was a perfectly legal marriage, for
Nita was one of the witnesses, and looked to all that—-"
Here Caroline could read no more. Sick and stunned, she began to
dispense her teacups, and even helped herself to some of the food
that was handed round, but her hand trembled so, and she looked so
white and bewildered, that Allen exclaimed—-
"Mother, you are really ill. You should not have come down."
She could not bear the crowd and buzz of voices and all the anxious
eyes any longer. She pushed back her chair, and as sons came
hurrying round with offered arms, she took the nearest, which was
Jock's, let him take her to the morning-room, and there assured him
she was not ill, only she had had a letter.
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