"
Mary, who was standing at the window in Hope's study, came slowly
forward, pale as death with her own trouble, to do an act of womanly
justice. "Miss Clifford," said she, languidly, as one to whom all human
events were comparatively indifferent--"Miss Clifford lent the bracelet
to me, and I left it at that man's inn." This she said right in the
middle of them all.
The hotel-keeper took the bracelet from the unresisting hand of Bartley,
touched his hat, and gave it to her.
"There, mistress," said he. "I could have told them you was the lady, but
they would not let a poor fellow get a word in edgeways." He retired with
an obeisance.
Mary handed the bracelet to Julia, and then remained passive.
A dead silence fell upon them all, and a sort of horror crept over Mary
Bartley at what must follow; but come what might, no power should
induce her to say the word that should send Walter Clifford to jail for
seven years.
Bartley came to her; she trembled, and her hands worked.
"What are you saying, you fool?" he whispered.
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