"Lord save us!" she exclaimed, recognizing it, and
confronting him with cheeks that had suddenly become colorless, and
eyes that stared in terror and astonishment. "Lord save us! how did you
come by that? And who for mercy's sake are you?"
"My name's Matthew Grice," he answered quickly and sternly. "This
Bracelet belonged to my sister, Mary Grice. She run away from home, and
died, and was buried in Bangbury churchyard. If you know her grave,
tell me in plain words--is it here?"
Breathless as she was with astonishment, Mrs. Peckover managed to
stammer a faint answer in the affirmative, and to add that the
initials, "M. G.," would be found somewhere on the broken board lying
at their feet. She then tried to ask a question or two in her turn; but
the words died away in faint exclamations of surprise. "To think of me
and you meeting together!" was all she could say;--"her own brother,
too! Oh! to think of that!--only to think of that!"
Mat looked down at the mud, the brambles, and the rotting grass that
lay over what had once been a living and loving human creature. The
dangerous brightness glittered in his eyes, the cold change spread fast
over his cheeks, and the scars of the arrow-wounds began to burn redly
and more redly, as he whispered to himself--"I'll be even yet, Mary,
with the man who laid you here!"
"Does Mr.
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