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Updated: May 25, 2025
Accidentally looking downward while I was weighing these probabilities, I noticed a small black object on the carpet, lying just under the key, on the inner side of the door. I picked the thing up, and found that it was a torn morsel of black lace. The instant I saw the fragment, I was reminded of the long black veil, hanging below her waist, which it was the habit of Miss Dunross to wear.
I asked, as the sound of the pen ceased. "I have written," she answered, in her customary quiet tones. I went on again with my letter. "The days pass now, and I seldom or never think of her; I hope I am resigned at last to the loss of Mrs. Van Brandt." As I reached the end of the sentence, I heard a faint cry from Miss Dunross.
"Certainly!" "Well, then, plainly, I don't like your Mrs. Van Brandt." Ten days had passed; and thus far Miss Dunross had made her way into my confidence already! By what means had she induced me to trust her with those secret and sacred sorrows of my life which I had hitherto kept for my mother's ear alone?
I think directly of the heroic conduct of Miss Dunross among her poor and afflicted neighbors; and I do not forget the melancholy result of her devotion to others which has left her an incurable invalid. My anxiety to see this lady more plainly increases a hundred-fold.
"Dear Miss Dunross," I remonstrated, "the flag is not lost." "I should hope not!" she interposed, quickly. "If you lose the green flag, you lose the last relic of Mary and more than that, if my belief is right." "What do you believe?" "You will laugh at me if I tell you. I am afraid my first reading of your face was wrong I am afraid you are a hard man." "Indeed you do me an injustice.
This was all that it was necessary to say on the subject of my health; the disaster of my re-opened wound having been, for obvious reasons, concealed from my mother's knowledge. Miss Dunross silently wrote the opening lines of the letter, and waited for the words that were to follow.
"I expected," she answered, "to hear of a lady in the house." I cannot positively say that the reply took me by surprise: it forced me to reflect before I spoke again. I knew, by my past experience, that she must have seen me, in my absence from her, while I was spiritually present to her mind in a trance or dream. Had she also seen the daily companion of my life in Shetland Miss Dunross?
"If she had not been an incurable invalid, George, I too might have become interested in Miss Dunross perhaps in the character of my daughter-in-law?" "It is useless, mother, to speculate on what might have happened. The sad reality is enough." My mother paused a little before she put her next question to me.
"No. I wish to know where Miss Dunross is." "Miss Dunross is in her room. She has sent me with this letter." I took the letter, feeling some surprise and uneasiness. It was the first time Miss Dunross had communicated with me in that formal way. I tried to gain further information by questioning her messenger. "Are you Miss Dunross's maid?" I asked.
Her head drooped lower on her bosom; her voice sunk as she answered me. "Think of your mother," she said. "The first duty you owe is your duty to her. Your long absence is a heavy trial to her your mother is suffering." "Suffering?" I repeated. "Her letters say nothing " "You forget that you have allowed me to read her letters," Miss Dunross interposed.
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