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Updated: June 24, 2025
It was bright moonlight when I lay down in bed, and all night long I dreamed of a rippling sea and broad sands, over which Dot and I were walking, hand in hand. It was a lovely evening when we arrived at Roseberry. "We lead regular hermit lives at the Brambles, away from the haunts of men," observed Miss Ruth; but I was too much occupied to answer her.
Would she sustain the ordeal through which Horace had innocently condemned her to pass? Yes! In the insolent presence of Grace Roseberry, what was there now that she could not sustain? Her pride was in arms. Her lovely eyes lighted up as only a woman's eyes can light up when they see jewelry. Her grand head bent gracefully to receive the necklace.
Never mind that now. At least you know that Julian Gray is in love with you." "Mr. Julian Gray has never breathed a word of it to me." "A man can show a woman that he loves her, without saying it in words." Mercy's power of endurance began to fail her. Not even Grace Roseberry had spoken more insultingly to her of Julian than Horace was speaking now. "Whoever says that of Mr.
She stood in the centre of the room, where he had left her, with a spot like a scarlet roseberry on either cheek; a soft half-smile on the perfect mouth, and a light unexpressibly tender and dreamy, in those artesian wells of beauty her eyes.
"Then I must tell you. If I can do nothing more in this serious state of things, I can at least prevent your being taken by surprise. In the first place, it is right you should know that I had a motive for accompanying Miss Roseberry to the boudoir. I own I had doubts of my success judging by what I had already seen of her. My doubts were confirmed.
Resting her head on her hand as she sat at the table, she tried to trace her way through the labyrinth of the past, beginning with the day when she had met Grace Roseberry in the French cottage, and ending with the day which had brought them face to face, for the second time, in the dining-room at Mablethorpe House. The chain of events began to unroll itself in her mind clearly, link by link.
"You know what German discipline is by this time. What is your name?" She answered him recklessly, defiantly, without fairly realizing what she was doing until it was done. "Grace Roseberry," she said. The words were hardly out of her mouth before she would have given everything she possessed in the world to recall them. "Miss?" asked Horace, smiling. She could only answer him by bowing her head.
"Hey, Frank this way for a minute." Frank recognized a friend and crony of Samuel Mace. This was pompous, red- faced Judge Roseberry. He had once been elected by mistake a justice of the peace, had never gotten a second term, but for some eight or ten years had traded on his past reputation.
The rustling sound stopped for a moment. The door was softly pushed open. The false Grace Roseberry entered the room. Horace advanced to meet her, opened his lips to speak, and stopped struck dumb by the change in his affianced wife since he had seen her last. Some terrible oppression seemed to have crushed her. It was as if she had actually shrunk in height as well as in substance.
Any mistake in dealing with it might lead to very painful results. If Julian had correctly anticipated the nature of the confession which Mercy had been on the point of addressing to him, the person whom he had been the means of introducing into the house was what she had vainly asserted herself to be no other than the true Grace Roseberry.
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