She set the bundle on the floor and

She set the bundle on the floor and made deft work of unknotting the string.
“I think this is it,” she said, and worked loose the last of the tie. The fabric fell to the sides, and there sat a stack of folded papers, tied with another ribbon, this one of deep crimson.
Fiona could not breathe or swallow, for though she had yet to learn the contents of those letters, she knew beyond reason that they were about to change everything.
“What are those?” Her voice cracked; her palms went moist.
Vivi looked into her eyes and held up the bundle as if it were the chalice from the Last Supper. “Letters. Love letters from your mother to Cedric Campbell.”
Fiona’s stomach rolled, and she felt dizzy and confused. So much so that Vivienne stood up fast and clutched her arm. “I told you I had proof,” she said. Still holding Fiona steady, Vivienne leaned down and grabbed the cloth and other tie. “We cannot read them here, though. Hold these. Let me lock the cabinet again, and we can take these to my chamber.”
Dazed, Fiona accepted the bundle, and even managed to wrap the cloth around it once more as Vivienne fastened the lock and put the keys back on the peg. Then Vivienne spun her by the shoulders, turning her around and pushing her back up the stairs, blowing out the candles as they went.
At the top, she grasped Fiona’s elbow. “Let me go first.” She stepped around and went into the priest’s chamber once more. Crossing to the other door, she opened it a crack, peeking into the chapel. She motioned for Fiona to follow and stepped through.
Up the aisle they rushed, but before they reached the door leading to the corridor, it opened and Father Darius stepped through. Fiona crossed her arms over the bundle as Vivienne stepped in front of her to shield it from the priest’s view.
His smile was warm, and Fiona thought once more how unlike Father Bettney he seemed. But that might change, once he realized she’d just stolen something from his sacristy.
“Father Darius.” Vivienne’s voice bubbled with enthusiasm. “How lovely to see you.”
“And you,” he answered. “I did not see you at mass this morning.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Or nearly any morning this week, if my memory is correct.”
“I’m sorry, Father. Mornings are such a sad time for me. ’Tis when I miss my dear dead husband the most, and I fear my weeping would distract your congregation.”
Priests should not scoff and roll their eyes, but this one did. “Vivienne, the Lord is everlasting in his patience, but even He must be getting tired of your fibs. However, come to mass tomorrow, and both He and I may forgive you. You wound my pride when you do not listen to my sermons, you know.”
Vivienne’s lips turned up in humor. “Isn’t pride the work of the devil, Father?”
Father Darius laughed, a rich, warm sound that echoed through the chapel. Fiona had never heard a priest laugh before. In fact, she could not recall a time when Father Bettney had done anything other than scowl and scold.
“Your wit has bested me, my lady. But I should like to see you at mass occasionally nonetheless. Now, what brings you to the chapel today? Is there something I can do for you and Lady Fiona?”
He nodded at Fiona, and she gripped the bundle more tightly still. She felt like Herod snatching the baby Jesus from his manger.
“No, thank you, Father,” Vivienne answered smoothly. “We are done. We came to offer prayers for Lady Fiona’s mother and father.”
“Ah, yes. I’m sorry for your loss, my lady. I will add them to my prayers this evening.”
“Thank you, Father.” Fiona could not seem to raise her voice above a whisper, choked as it was with a myriad of emotions.
“Thank you, Father,” Vivienne said as well. “That is kind of you, indeed. And I vow to make more effort to attend mass. But now we must be going.” With a fast smile, she pulled Fiona the length of the aisle and out the chapel door.
Shutting it behind them, the women leaned back against the wood. Fiona’s heart raced as if she’d run for miles, and the bundle of letters weighed a stone and plenty.
Vivienne took them from her. “Best let me carry these.”
They quickly made their way back to Vivienne’s chamber and sat upon her bed. She unwrapped the bundle once more.
“Would you like to be alone to read these? Or shall I stay?”
Fiona stared at them, as if each letter might turn into a snake and writhe around in a dark and twisty pile. She dared not touch even the crimson ribbon binding them together.
“I should like you to stay, please. But first, you must tell me how you knew of them, locked up as they were.”
Vivienne rose up off the bed and poured herself some wine from a pitcher sitting on a table. She took a hearty sip before filling another cup and handing it to Fiona.
“Before Father Darius arrived, there was another priest here. A debauched old lecher, much too fond of drink. But what a font of information that one was.” Vivienne’s shoulders rose and fell in a delicate shrug. “One evening, when he was well into his cups, he told me of the letters. Cedric put them there so my sister might never know of them. And once the priest told me...Well, I confess the temptation to read them was far too great.”
“You’ve read them? All of them?” It should not be a shock, and yet it was. The action felt like betrayal of the deepest cut.
But for once, Vivi demonstrated some display of shame, dipping her head and looking to the floor. “I’m sorry, Fiona. I know I shouldn’t have, but I never thought to know you. It seemed like such an appealingly wicked game at the time, until your poor mother turned up murdered, of course.”
Bile roiled inside Fiona at the mention. “Do the letters hint at anything about that?”
Vivienne shook her head. “Nothing that I recall. But it’s been years since I read them.”
“And no one knows you’ve seen them? Or that they even exist?”
“I have no idea who knows of them. That old priest could keep no secrets. ’Tis why I gave up confession altogether.”
Breath was hard to come by as Fiona stared into the pile once more. Love letters. From her mother to Cedric Campbell. The desire to read every word equaled her fear of what she would learn. To think of her mother as a young woman, a woman longing for a man other than her husband, made Fiona’s skin flush and her throat tighten. She sipped at the wine Vivienne had given her, then set her glass on the table next to the bed.
“Of course, these are only the letters Cedric received from your mother. There is no telling where his letters back to her might have gone,” Vivienne added.
Fiona looked to her at once. “His letters to her? I had not thought of that.” Of course she had not, for until that very morning, she’d had no knowledge of any such communication between them. And indeed was still not certain this pile of scraps before her proved a thing. She could not know unless she read them. So she must.

Hasil (Bahasa Indonesia) 1:

She set the bundle on the floor and made deft work of unknotting the string.“I think this is it,” she said, and worked loose the last of the tie. The fabric fell to the sides, and there sat a stack of folded papers, tied with another ribbon, this one of deep crimson.Fiona could not breathe or swallow, for though she had yet to learn the contents of those letters, she knew beyond reason that they were about to change everything.“What are those?” Her voice cracked; her palms went moist.Vivi looked into her eyes and held up the bundle as if it were the chalice from the Last Supper. “Letters. Love letters from your mother to Cedric Campbell.”Fiona’s stomach rolled, and she felt dizzy and confused. So much so that Vivienne stood up fast and clutched her arm. “I told you I had proof,” she said. Still holding Fiona steady, Vivienne leaned down and grabbed the cloth and other tie. “We cannot read them here, though. Hold these. Let me lock the cabinet again, and we can take these to my chamber.”Dazed, Fiona accepted the bundle, and even managed to wrap the cloth around it once more as Vivienne fastened the lock and put the keys back on the peg. Then Vivienne spun her by the shoulders, turning her around and pushing her back up the stairs, blowing out the candles as they went.At the top, she grasped Fiona’s elbow. “Let me go first.” She stepped around and went into the priest’s chamber once more. Crossing to the other door, she opened it a crack, peeking into the chapel. She motioned for Fiona to follow and stepped through.Up the aisle they rushed, but before they reached the door leading to the corridor, it opened and Father Darius stepped through. Fiona crossed her arms over the bundle as Vivienne stepped in front of her to shield it from the priest’s view.His smile was warm, and Fiona thought once more how unlike Father Bettney he seemed. But that might change, once he realized she’d just stolen something from his sacristy.“Father Darius.” Vivienne’s voice bubbled with enthusiasm. “How lovely to see you.”“And you,” he answered. “I did not see you at mass this morning.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Or nearly any morning this week, if my memory is correct.”“I’m sorry, Father. Mornings are such a sad time for me. ’Tis when I miss my dear dead husband the most, and I fear my weeping would distract your congregation.”Priests should not scoff and roll their eyes, but this one did. “Vivienne, the Lord is everlasting in his patience, but even He must be getting tired of your fibs. However, come to mass tomorrow, and both He and I may forgive you. You wound my pride when you do not listen to my sermons, you know.”Vivienne’s lips turned up in humor. “Isn’t pride the work of the devil, Father?”Father Darius laughed, a rich, warm sound that echoed through the chapel. Fiona had never heard a priest laugh before. In fact, she could not recall a time when Father Bettney had done anything other than scowl and scold.“Your wit has bested me, my lady. But I should like to see you at mass occasionally nonetheless. Now, what brings you to the chapel today? Is there something I can do for you and Lady Fiona?”He nodded at Fiona, and she gripped the bundle more tightly still. She felt like Herod snatching the baby Jesus from his manger.“No, thank you, Father,” Vivienne answered smoothly. “We are done. We came to offer prayers for Lady Fiona’s mother and father.”“Ah, yes. I’m sorry for your loss, my lady. I will add them to my prayers this evening.”“Thank you, Father.” Fiona could not seem to raise her voice above a whisper, choked as it was with a myriad of emotions.“Thank you, Father,” Vivienne said as well. “That is kind of you, indeed. And I vow to make more effort to attend mass. But now we must be going.” With a fast smile, she pulled Fiona the length of the aisle and out the chapel door.Shutting it behind them, the women leaned back against the wood. Fiona’s heart raced as if she’d run for miles, and the bundle of letters weighed a stone and plenty.Vivienne took them from her. “Best let me carry these.”They quickly made their way back to Vivienne’s chamber and sat upon her bed. She unwrapped the bundle once more.“Would you like to be alone to read these? Or shall I stay?”Fiona stared at them, as if each letter might turn into a snake and writhe around in a dark and twisty pile. She dared not touch even the crimson ribbon binding them together."Aku harus seperti Anda untuk menginap, silakan. Tapi pertama, Anda harus memberitahu saya bagaimana Anda tahu mereka, dikurung ketika mereka."Vivienne bangun dari tempat tidurnya dan menuangkan dirinya beberapa anggur dari kendi duduk di meja. Dia mengambil seteguk lezat sebelum mengisi cangkir lain dan menyerahkannya kepada Fiona."Sebelum ayah Darius tiba, ada imam lain di sini. Bermoral tua lecher, terlalu menyukai minuman. "Tetapi apa font informasi yang satu itu." Vivienne di bahu naik dan turun dalam mengangkat bahu halus. "Suatu malam, ketika ia berusia baik ke dalam cangkir nya, dia bilang huruf. Cedric menempatkan mereka tidak jadi adikku mungkin pernah tahu mereka. Dan setelah imam mengatakan kepada saya... Yah, aku mengakui godaan untuk membaca mereka terlalu besar.""Anda telah membacanya? Semua dari mereka?" Seharusnya tidak menjadi kejutan, dan belum itu. Tindakan merasa seperti pengkhianatan yang terdalam dipotong.Tapi untuk sekali, Vivi menunjukkan beberapa tampilan malu, mencelupkan kepalanya dan mencari ke lantai. "Saya minta maaf, Fiona. Aku tahu aku seharusnya tidak, tapi saya tidak pernah berpikir untuk mengenal Anda. Rasanya seperti sebuah permainan menarik jahat saat itu, sampai Ibu miskin Anda muncul dibunuh, tentu saja."Empedu bergolak di dalam Fiona di menyebutkan. "Apakah huruf petunjuk pada apa-apa tentang hal itu?"Vivienne menggelengkan kepalanya. "Tidak ada yang saya ingat. "Tapi sudah bertahun-tahun sejak saya membaca mereka.""Dan tidak ada yang tahu Anda telah melihat mereka? Atau bahwa mereka bahkan ada?"“I have no idea who knows of them. That old priest could keep no secrets. ’Tis why I gave up confession altogether.”Breath was hard to come by as Fiona stared into the pile once more. Love letters. From her mother to Cedric Campbell. The desire to read every word equaled her fear of what she would learn. To think of her mother as a young woman, a woman longing for a man other than her husband, made Fiona’s skin flush and her throat tighten. She sipped at the wine Vivienne had given her, then set her glass on the table next to the bed.“Of course, these are only the letters Cedric received from your mother. There is no telling where his letters back to her might have gone,” Vivienne added.Fiona looked to her at once. “His letters to her? I had not thought of that.” Of course she had not, for until that very morning, she’d had no knowledge of any such communication between them. And indeed was still not certain this pile of scraps before her proved a thing. She could not know unless she read them. So she must.