"I have read them carefully ever so many times, with the notion that they
might throw some light upon Mr. and Mrs. Nowell's antecedents," said the
Captain, as Gilbert held these in his hands, disinclined to look at
documents of so private and sacred a character; "but they tell very
little. I fancy that Miss Geoffry was a governess in some family in
London--the envelopes are missing, you see, so there is no evidence as to
where she was living, except that it _was_ in London--and that she left
her employment to marry this Percival Nowell. You'd like to read the
letters yourself, I daresay, Gilbert. Put them in your pocket, and look
them over at your leisure when you get home. You can bring them back
before you leave Lidford."
Mr. Fenton glanced at Marian to see if she had any objection to his
reading the letters. She was quite silent, looking absently at the
trinkets lying in the tray before her.
"You don't mind my reading your father's letters, Marian?" he asked.
"Not at all. Only I think you will find them very uninteresting."
"I am interested in everything that concerns you."
He put the papers in his pocket, and sat up for an hour in his room that
night reading Percival Nowell's love letters. They revealed very little
to him, except the unmitigated selfishness of the writer.
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