wished he could marry me, and in this letter telling about his wife's death she said several things that I did n't like; I did n't read them to you; and in my letter to her I told her how much safer and happier I was with you than I ever could have been with any other man in the world, and"
Susan hesitated. How hard it was to quote that unfortunate sentence just as it stood! "and—there really was only one sentence in the letter I was unwilling you should see. I thought you would n't understand. I told Bell to be careful what she wrote to me about it, because I had n't any secrets from you, and you might look over my shoulder and read the letter."
While Susan was speaking these last words, Tom's eyes seemed to grow darker and darker, with the fixity of their gaze. As she finished, he put his arms around her, held her tight and kissed her. She felt that the ice was broken. Weeping, she kissed his cheek and nestled closer.
"Sue," said Tom,—it was his old voice,—"Sue, now I will tell you. I had read that letter."
Sue started, and exclaimed, "You! read that letter!"
"Yes," he said. "I came in and saw it lying here open, saw it was to Bell, and glanced down the pages till I came to that sentence which you have just repeated, and which, you will admit, I had cause to resent."
She was hardly listening to what he said. Her face was full of awe, almost of terror.
