She had an opportunity of testing her serenity on one day early
in February.
She rose as usual at a fixed hour--eight o'clock--and when she was
ready knelt down at her _prie-Dieu_. This was quite an elaborate
structure, far more elaborate than the devotions offered there. It was
a very beautiful inlaid Florentine affair, and had a little shelf
above it filled with a number of the little leather-bound books in
which her soul delighted. She did not use these books very much; but
she liked to see them there. It would not be decent to enter the
sanctuary of Mrs. Baxter's prayers; it is enough to say that they were
not very long. Then she rose from her knees, left her large
comfortable bedroom, redolent with soap and hot water, and came
downstairs, a beautiful slender little figure in black lace veil and
rich dress, through the sunlight of the staircase, into the
dining-room.
There she took up her letters and packets. They were not exciting.
There was an unimportant note from a friend, a couple of bills, and a
_Bon Marche_ catalogue; and she scrutinized these through her
spectacles, sitting by the fire. When she had done she noticed a
letter lying by Maggie's place, directed in a masculine hand.
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