I _am_ glad I've found his book!" She
went off embracing it.
Mrs. Colwood was left with two impressions--one sharp, the other vague.
One was that Mr. Oliver Marsham might easily become a personage in the
story of which she had just, as it were, turned the first leaf. The
other was connected with the name on the despatch-box. Why did it haunt
her? It had produced a kind of indistinguishable echo in the brain, to
which she could put no words--which was none the less dreary; like a
voice of wailing from a far-off past.
CHAPTER II
During the days immediately following her arrival at Beechcote, Mrs.
Colwood applied herself to a study of Miss Mallory and her
surroundings--none the less penetrating because the student was modest
and her method unperceived. She divined a nature unworldly, impulsive,
steeped, moreover, for all its spiritual and intellectual force, which
was considerable, in a kind of sensuous romance--much connected with
concrete things and symbols, places, persons, emblems, or relics, any
contact with which might at any time bring the color to the girl's
cheeks and the tears to her eyes. _Honor_--personal or national--the
word was to Diana like a spark to dry leaves.
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