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A small woman of my own age, a Mrs. Murray, whose daughter, a stenographer, had disappeared, attended the inquest. But her daughter had had no such scar, and had worn her nails short, because of using the typewriter. Alice Murray was the missing girl's name. Her mother sat beside me, and cried most of the time.
Le compte y était, as they used to say in Paris every one of them, for her immediate employment, was there; and there was something in it after all. Mrs. Drack was not refined, not the least little bit; but what would be the case with Murray Brush now after his three years of Europe? Then she had drawn her conclusion, which was one of the many that Basil French had made her draw.
From this it appears that the natives of that part of the country have in addition to their other ordinary names a family or surname, which is perpetuated through successive generations on the mother's side. This is not the case as far as my observations and inquiries have enabled me to ascertain among the numerous tribes frequenting the Murray river, and Mr.
Her consciousness was so mixed that she scarcely knew where the different parts of it would lead her, and she went about in a repressed ecstasy of contemplation, seeing often in the things she looked at a great deal more than was there, and yet not seeing many of the items enumerated in her Murray. Rome, as Ralph said, confessed to the psychological moment.
No reluctance was visible, no complaint was heard, but there was that in their aspect and appearance which they could not hide, and which I could not mistake. My object in dwelling so long upon this subject has been to point out our situation and our feelings when we re-entered the Murray.
Murray Bay while viewed only in perspective afforded me a sort of pleasing reflection; but now that I have a nearer view and enjoyed its comforts my ideas have experienced a complete revolution. So you see what your society and most kind loving treatment have effected.
Murray at once called the Lords of the Congregation to arms. But the most powerful and active stood aloof. As heir of the line of Angus, Darnley was by blood the head of the house of Douglas, and, Protestants as they were, the Douglases rallied to their kinsman.
Murray saw her discomposure, but chose to take no notice of it, and superintended her toilet that night with almost as much interest as if she had been her own daughter. During the drive she talked on indifferent subjects, and as they went up to the dressing-room had the satisfaction of seeing that her protegee manifested no trepidation.
"My dear, is it true?" said Mrs. Murray in a bewildered tone. "I don't understand. If you are not Margaret Anstruther, who are you, and where is she?" "That is precisely what I wish to know," broke in Mr. Anstruther sternly. "What is this girl doing here, and where is my granddaughter? Do you really mean to say," he added, "that Margaret has not been here at all?
Murray herself, who had become accustomed to her husband's eccentricities, sat in a state of utter bewilderment, not knowing what might happen next; nor did she feel quite safe until the text was announced and the sermon fairly begun.
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