Polly twisted it in her fingers, and made a movement to hide it in her pocket; but with the movement she seemed to reflect.

“He gave it to me; I don’t understand anything about it.  I was shutting the window, when he whistled to me; he gave me this.  I—­I think he meant it for you.”

Polly’s tone suddenly became saucy, but her voice shook.

Dorothea was shaking too, as her fingers closed on the note.  She vainly sought to read the girl’s eyes.  Her own cheeks were burning; she felt the blood rushing into them and singing in her ears.  Yet in her abasement she kept her dignity, and, motioning Polly to follow, stepped into the bedroom, unfolded the letter slowly, and read it by the candle there.

   "My Angel,

   “I have hungered now for a week.  Be at your window this evening
   and let me, at least, be fed with a word.  See what I risk for you.

   “Yours devotedly and for ever."_

There was no signature, but well enough Dorothea knew the handwriting.  A wave of anger swelled in her heart—­the first she had ever felt towards him.  He had behaved selfishly.  “See what I risk for you!”—­ but to what risk was he exposing her!  He was breaking their covenant too; demanding that which he must know her conscience abhorred.  She had not believed he could understand her so poorly, held her so cheap.  Cheap indeed, since he had risked her secret in Polly’s hand!

She turned the paper over, noting its creases.  Suddenly—­“You have opened and read this!” she said.

Polly admitted it with downcast eyes.  The girl, after the first surprise, had demeaned herself admirably, and now stood in the attitude proper to a confidential servant; solicitous, respectful, prepared to blink the peccadillo, even to sympathise discreetly at a hint given.

“I’m sorry, Miss, that I opened it; I ought to have told you, but you took me by surprise.  You know, Miss, that you gave me leave to run down to my aunt’s this evening; and on my way back—­just as I was letting myself in by the nursery gate, Mr. Raoul comes tearing up the hill after me and slips this into my hand.  To tell you the truth, it rather frightened me being run after like that.  And he said something and ran back—­for nine was just striking, and in a moment the Ting-tang would be ringing and he must be back to answer his name.  So in my fluster I didn’t catch what he meant.  When I got home and opened it, I saw my mistake.  But you were downstairs at dinner—­I couldn’t get to speak with you alone—­I waited to tell you; and just now, when I was drawing the blinds, I heard a whistle—­”

“M.  Raoul had no right to send me such a message, Polly.  I cannot think what he means by it.  Nothing that I have ever said to him—­”

“No, Miss,” Polly assented readily.  After a pause she added:  “I suppose you’d like me to go now?  You won’t be wanting your hair done to-night?”