my fingers.

I slipt it into my breast, and ran up-stairs stealthily, trembling lest the
old woman should summon me again, at the head of the stairs, into Uncle
Silas's room, where under his gaze, I fancied, I should be sure to betray
myself.

But I glided unseen and safely by, entered my room, and shut my door. So
listening and working, I, with my scissors' point, scratched the address
where Doctor Bryerly had advised. Then, in positive terror, lest some one
should even knock during the operation, I, with a match, consumed to ashes
the tell-tale bit of paper.

Now, for the first time, I experienced the unpleasant sensations of
having a secret to keep. I fancy the pain of this solitary liability was
disproportionately acute in my case, for I was naturally very open and
very nervous. I was always on the point of betraying it _apropos des
bottes_--always reproaching myself for my duplicity; and in constant terror
when honest Mary Quince approached the press, or good-natured Milly made
her occasional survey of the wonders of my wardrobe. I would have given
anything to go and point to the tiny inscription, and say:--'This is Doctor
Bryerly's address in London. I scratched it with my scissors' point, taking
every precaution lest anyone--you, my good friends, included--should
surprise me. I have ever since kept this secret to myself, and trembled
whenever your frank kind faces looked into the press. There--you at last
know all about it. Can you ever forgive my deceit?'

But I could not make up my mind to reveal it; nor yet to erase the
inscription, which was my alternative thought. Indeed I am a wavering,
irresolute creature as ever lived, in my ordinary mood. High excitement or