What rendered it singular
was the fact that the signatures had been carefully cut from every
one of these letters, and wherever a name occurred in the body of
the epistles it had been erased with so much diligence as to render
it impossible to read it. They had all been enclosed in envelopes,
according to the fashion of the age, and not an address either was
to be found. Still the letters themselves had been religiously
preserved, and Judith thought she could discover traces of tears
remaining on several. She now remembered to have seen the little
trunk in her mother's keeping, previously to her death, and she
supposed it had first been deposited in the chest, along with the
other forgotten or concealed objects, when the letters could no
longer contribute to that parent's grief or happiness.
Next came another bundle, and these were filled with the protestations
of love, written with passion certainly, but also with that deceit
which men so often think it justifiable to use to the other sex.
Judith had shed tears abundantly over the first packet, but now she
felt a sentiment of indignation and pride better sustaining her.
Her hand shook, however, and cold shivers again passed through her
frame, as she discovered a few points of strong resemblance between
these letters and some it had been her own fate to receive.
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