Horace admitted that the servants were
right.
Her fingers, suddenly stopped at their restless work among the
wools; her breath quickened perceptibly. What had Julian Gray
been doing abroad? Had he been making inquiries? Did he alone, of
all the people who saw that terrible meeting, suspect her? Yes!
His was the finer intelligence; his was a clergyman's (a London
clergyman's) experience of frauds and deceptions, and of the
women who were guilty of them. Not a doubt of it now! Julian
suspected her.
"When does he come back?" she asked, in tones so low that Horace
could barely hear her.
"He has come back already. He returned last night."
A faint shade of color stole slowly over the pallor of her face.
She suddenly put her basket away, and clasped her hands together
to quiet the trembling of them, before she asked her next
question.
"Where is--" She paused to steady her voice. "Where is the
person," she resumed, "who came here and frightened me?"
Horace hastened to re-assure her. "The person will not come
again," he said. "Don't talk of her! Don't think of her!"
She shook her head. "There is something I want to know," she
persisted.
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