For there were decorations
here and there--a delicate piece of crochet work on a dresser; a sewing
basket on a stand; a pincushion, a pair of shears; some gaily
ornamented pictures on the walls, and--peering behind the dresser--he
saw a pair of lady's riding-boots.
He strode to a closet door and threw it open, revealing, hanging
innocently on their hooks, a miscellaneous array of skirts, blouses,
and dresses.
Mary had surrendered her room to him. Feeling guilty again, and rather
conscience-stricken, as though he were committing some sacrilegious
action, he went to the dresser and began to search among the effects in
the drawers.
They were filled with articles of wearing apparel, delicately fringed
things that delight the feminine heart, and keepsakes of all
descriptions. Sanderson handled them carefully, but his search was not
the less thorough on that account.
And at last, in one of the upper drawers of the dresser, he came upon a
packet of letters.
Again his conscience pricked him, but the stern urge of necessity drove
him on until he discovered an envelope addressed to the elder
Bransford, in his own handwriting, and close to it a letter from Will
Bransford to Mary Bransford.
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