You shall take a line to him from me.

I will write it this moment." The letter was written.

But it was never sent.

Rose found Josephine and Jacintha together; saw a letter was being written, asked to see it; on Josephine's hesitating, snatched it out of her hand, read it, tore it to pieces, and told Jacintha to leave the room.

She hated the sight of poor Jacintha, who had slept at the very moment when all depended on her watchfulness.
"So you were going to send to HIM, unknown to me." "Forgive me, Rose." Rose burst out crying.
"O Josephine! is it come to this?
Would you deceive ME ?" "You have deceived ME! Yes! it has come to that.