Blyth know who you are, sir?" asked Mrs. Peckover, hesitating
and trembling as she put this question. "Did he give you the Bracelet?"
She stopped. Mat was not listening to her. His eyes were fastened on
the grave: he was still talking to himself in quick whispering tones.
"Her Bracelet was hid from me in another man's chest," he said--"I've
found her Bracelet. Her child was hid from me in another man's
house--I've found her child. Her grave was hid from me in a strange
churchyard--I've found her grave. The man who laid her in it is hid
from me still--I shall find _him!"_
"Please do listen to me, sir, for one moment," pleaded Mrs. Peckover,
more nervously than before. _"Does_ Mr. Blyth know about you? And
little Mary--oh, sir, whatever you do, pray, pray don't take her away
from where she is now! You can't mean to do that, sir, though you are
her own mother's brother? You can't, surely?"
He looked up at her so quickly, with such a fierce, steady,
serpent-glitter in his light-grey eyes, that she recoiled a step or
two; still pleading, however, with desperate perseverance for an answer
to her last question.
"Only tell me, sir, that you don't mean to take little Mary away, and I
won't ask you to say so much as another word! You'll leave her with Mr.
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