“The next one that came—­and never a word from him made me sure—­so, I thought to myself, I’ll make certain, and I opened the bag myself with my key for a few mornings—­I came down early before him on purpose—­and soon I sees another gold crown and great, sprawly writin’.  The kettle was singing.  It took me no time to get the gum unstuck, and—­well there!  My dear, you never did!  I blush to think of it.  The hussy!  She was thankin’ him for a diamond bracelet.  Now I know my son Gussie well enough to know he did not give her that bracelet for nothing.  Then she said as how he might come on Tuesday to see her, as she would be passin’ through London and would be at her town-house for the day.”

“But please don’t tell me—­it—­oh, one ought never to read other people’s letters!” I exclaimed.

Mrs. Gurrage flushed scarlet.

“There!  That’s just you—­your high and mighty sentiments!  And why, pray, shouldn’t a mother watch over her son, even if his wife has not the spirit to?”

I did not answer.

“There!  It’s been so from the first.  I thought you’d have been proud and glad to marry my Gussie—­you, as poor as a rat!  I don’t set no store by our wealth—­the Lord’s doin’, and Mr. Gurrage takin’ advantage of the opportunities, his partener dyin’ youngish—­but I liked the idea of your bein’ high-born, and I was frightened about Gussie’s lookin’ at that girl at the Ledstone Arms.  And you seemed good and quiet and well-brought-up.  And Gussie just doted on you.  You ought to have jumped at him, but you and your grandma were that proud!  All the time you were engaged you were as haughty as if you were honorin’ him, instead of his honorin’ you!  Since you’ve been my daughter-in-law, I have no cause to complain of you, only it’s the feelin’, and your settin’ quiet and far away, when a flesh-and-blood woman would have clawed that viscountess’s hair!  Gussie’d never have been after her if you’d show’d a little more affection.  You’re not a bad-lookin’ woman yourself if you wasn’t so white.”

“Do let us understand each other,” I said.  “I told your son from the first that I did not care for him.  My grandmother was old and dying.  We had no relations to depend upon.  I should have been left, as Augustus was unchivalrous enough to tell me this morning, ’in the gutter.’  These reasons seemed strong enough to my grandmother to make her deem it expedient that I should marry some one.  There was no time to choose—­I had never dreamed in my life of disobeying her.  She told me to marry Augustus.  This situation was fully explained to him, and he understood and kept us to the bargain.  I have endeavored in every way to fulfil my side, but in it I never contemplated a supervision of his letters.”

“Oh, indeed!  And why couldn’t you love him, pray?  A finer young man doesn’t live for miles round,” Mrs. Gurrage said, with great offence.  The other questions seemed in abeyance for the moment.