At last she determined that she would write a letter to M. Urmand, and show a copy of the letter to her uncle when the post should have taken it so far out of Granpere on its way to Basle, as to make it impossible that her uncle should recall it.  Much of the day after George’s departure, and much of the night, was spent in the preparation of this letter.  Marie Bromar was not so well practised in the writing of letters as will be the majority of the young ladies who may, perhaps, read her history.  It was a difficult thing for her to begin the letter, and a difficult thing for her to bring it to its end.  But the letter was written and sent.  The post left Granpere at about eight in the morning, taking all letters by way of Remiremont; and on the day following George’s departure, the post took Marie Bromar’s letter to M. Urmand.

When it was gone, her state of mind was very painful.  Then it was necessary that she should show the copy to her uncle.  She had posted the letter between six and seven with her own hands, and had then come trembling back to the inn, fearful that her uncle should discover what she had done before her letter should be beyond his reach.  When she saw the mail conveyance go by on its route to Remiremont, then she knew that she must begin to prepare for her uncle’s wrath.  She thought that she had heard that the letters were detained some time at Remiremont before they went on to Epinal in one direction, and to Mulhouse in the other.  She looked at the railway time-table which was hung up in one of the passages of the inn, and saw the hour of the departure of the diligence from Remiremont to catch the train at Mulhouse for Basle.  When that hour was passed, the conveyance of her letter was insured, and then she must show the copy to her uncle.  He came into the house about twelve, and eat his dinner with his wife in the little chamber.  Marie, who was in and out of the room during the time, would not sit down with them.  When pressed to do so by her uncle, she declared that she had eaten lately and was not hungry.  It was seldom that she would sit down to dinner, and this therefore gave rise to no special remark.  As soon as his meal was over, Michel Voss got up to go out about his business, as was usual with him.  Then Marie followed him into the passage.  ‘Uncle Michel,’ she said, ’I want to speak to you for a moment; will you come with me?’

‘What is it about, Marie?’

‘If you will come, I will show you.’

‘Show me!  What will you show me?’

‘It’s a letter, Uncle Michel.  Come up-stairs and you shall see it.’  Then he followed her up-stairs, and in the long public room, which was at that hour deserted, she took out of her pocket the copy of her letter to Adrian Urmand, and put it into her uncle’s hands.  ’It is a letter, Uncle Michel, which I have written to M. Urmand.  It went this morning, and you must see it.’

‘A letter to Urmand,’ he said, as he took the paper suspiciously into his hands.