It would have killed her to doubt him.

Her whole soul went up to him in her eyes; and as he was ready to die for her, she knew that for him she would suffer every anguish death could hold, and not flinch.
Then she looked down, and suddenly laughed a little oddly, and her finger pointed towards the pens and paper.
"She has left something behind," she said.

"She was clever to get in here and slip out again without being seen." Don John looked where she pointed, and saw a small letter folded round the stems of two white carnations, and neatly tied with a bit of twisted silk.

It was laid between the paper and the bronze inkstand, and half hidden by the broad white feather of a goose-quill pen, that seemed to have been thrown carelessly across the flowers.

It lay there as if meant to be found, only by one who wrote, and not to attract too much attention.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, in a rather singular tone, as he saw it, and a boyish blush reddened his face.
Then he took the letter and drew out the two flowers by the blossoms very carefully.