"My
God! a letter from the Marquis de Valorsay!" she thought.
It was evident that the estimable lady was expecting this missive
by the eagerness with which she sprang out of bed and opened the
door. And Marguerite heard her say to the servant in her sweetest
voice: "A thousand thanks, my child! Ah! this is a great relief, I
have heard from my brother-in-law at last. I recognize his hand-
writing." And then the door closed again.
Standing silent and motionless in the middle of her room,
Marguerite listened with that feverish anxiety that excites the
perceptive faculties to the utmost degree. An inward voice,
stronger than reason, told her that this letter threatened her
happiness, her future, perhaps her life! But how could she
convince herself of the truth of this presentiment? If she had
followed her first impulse, she would have rushed into Madame
Leon's room and have snatched the letter from her hands. But if
she did this, she would betray herself, and prove that she was not
the dupe they supposed her to be, and this supposition on the part
of her enemies constituted her only chance of salvation.
If she could only watch Madame Leon as she read the letter, and
gain some information from the expression of her face; but this
seemed impossible, for the keyhole was blocked up by the key,
which had been left in the lock on the other side.
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