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But this strangely menacing peak raises his defiant head over nothing but broad meadows, arable land, and woodlands, and his only warfare is with the lower strata of storm-clouds, which is a convenient thing for the people who live in these parts; for long ago they used the peak as a sign of approaching storms, having reduced the warning to the easily-remembered couplet: 'When Roseberry Topping wears a cap, Let Cleveland then beware of a clap.
Mercy recalled the conversation that had passed between her ill-fated companion and herself. Miss Roseberry had spoken of her object in returning to England. She had mentioned a lady a connection by marriage, to whom she was personally a stranger who was waiting to receive her. Some one capable of stating how the poor creature had met with her death ought to write to her only friend.
I implored them to tell me where I was, and what had happened "Spare me! I can say no more. Not long since you heard Miss Roseberry call me an outcast from the streets. Now you know as God is my judge I am speaking the truth! now you know what made me an outcast, and in what measure I deserved my disgrace." Her voice faltered, her resolution failed her, for the first time.
No signs of anger or mortification escaped Julian. The expression in his face at that moment was an expression of sincere distress. "Pray don't alarm yourself," he said to his aunt, in his quietest tones. "If she attempts to annoy you or Miss Roseberry again, I have it in my power to stop her instantly." "How?" asked Lady Janet. "How, indeed!" echoed Horace.
This delicate and beautiful creature pines under the slow torment of constant self-reproach. To the mistress of the house, and to all who inhabit it or enter it, she is known as Grace Roseberry, the orphan relative by marriage of Lady Janet Roy.
"You are earlier than usual, my dear," said mother, with an odd little twitch of the lip, as though something pleased her. But here Dot, who never could keep a secret for five minutes, burst out in his shrill voice: "Oh, Essie, what do you think? You will never believe it you and I and Flurry are going to Roseberry for six whole weeks."
A few modest shops, the Blue Boar Inn, and a bow-windowed house, with "Library" painted on it in large characters, were mixed up with pleasant-looking dwelling houses. The little gray church was down a country road, and did not look as though it belonged to the town, but the schools were in High street. Beyond Roseberry were the great rolling downs.
"Judge Roseberry," he said calmly, but with an impressive seriousness, "I will thank you to return my pocket knife." "Hey h'm!" spluttered the judge, taken off his balance. "Your knife?" "Precisely," insisted Frank. "Why how who says I've got your knife?" stammered the judge, growing redder in the face than usual. "Mr. Dobbins, here, informs me that he does," replied Frank.
She had no accomplished lady to personate: Grace had spoken herself her father's letter spoke also in the plainest terms of her neglected education. Everything, literally everything, was in the lost woman's favor. The people with whom she had been connected in the ambulance had gone, to return no more. Her own clothes were on Miss Roseberry at that moment marked with her own name.
"At any rate," he resumed, with undiminished good temper, "we are all three equally interested in setting this matter at rest. I put it to you, Lady Janet, if we are not favored, at this lucky moment, with the very opportunity that we want? Miss Roseberry is not only out of the room, but out of the house.
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