Mrs.Gallilee's first words were now spoken, in a whisper.

The inner fury of her anger, struggling for a vent, began to get the better of her--she gasped for breath and speech.
"Do you know this letter ?" she said.
Carmina looked at the writing.

It was the letter to Ovid, which she had placed in the post-basket that afternoon; the letter which declared that she could no longer endure his mother's cold-blooded cruelty, and that she only waited Teresa's arrival to join him at Quebec.
After one dreadful moment of confusion, her mind realised the outrage implied in the stealing and reading of her letter.
In the earlier time of Carmina's sojourn in the house, Mrs.Gallilee had accused her of deliberate deceit.

She had instantly resented the insult by leaving the room.

The same spirit in her--the finely-strung spirit that vibrates unfelt in gentle natures, while they live in peace--steadied those quivering nerves, roused that failing courage.