diverted by the consequences of her own confounded curiosity and folly.
In moving, she had unconsciously brought the poor manuscript close to the
candle; the leaves caught the flame; her own cap and hand burning first
made her aware of the mischief done. She threw down the book; her sleeve
was in flames; she had first to tear off the sleeve, which was, luckily
for her, not sewn to her dress. By the time she recovered presence of
mind to attend to the book, half its leaves were reduced to tinder. She
did not dare then to replace what was left of the manuscript on your
table; returned with it to her room, hid it, and resolved to keep her own
secret. I should never have guessed it; I had never even spoken to her of
the occurrence; but when I talked over the disappearance of the book to
Margrave last night, and expressed my disbelief of your story, he said, in
his merry way: 'But do you think that Fenwick is the only person curious
about your cousin's odd ways and strange history? Why, every servant in
the household would have been equally curious. You have examined your
servants, of course?' 'No, I never thought of it.' 'Examine them now,
then. Examine especially that old housekeeper. I observe a great change
in her manner since I came here, weeks ago, to look over the house. She
has something on her mind,--I see it in her eyes.' Then it occurred to me,
too, that the woman's manner had altered, and that she seemed always in a
tremble and a fidget. I went at once to her room, and charged her with
stealing the book. She fell on her knees, and told the whole story as I
have told it to you, and as I shall take care to tell it to all to whom I
have so foolishly blabbed my yet more foolish suspicions of yourself. But
can you forgive me, old friend?"

"Heartily, heartily! And the book is burned?"

"See;" and he produced a mutilated manuscript. Strange, the part
burned--reduced, indeed, to tinder--was the concluding part that related