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183 | WILD MARGARET, =
. /
with Ferdinand to-morrow!” then, laying her hand upon
the horse’s neck, she tripped off beside her brother. /
Margaret sat and looked at the view with eyes that saw
‘nothing. She had come to Florence for solitude and se-
clusion, and already that solitude was threatened. What
should she do? The girl was so lovable that Margaret’s
tender heart already felt drawn toward her. All the more
should she guard against the possibility of an intimacy
between her—nameless and under a cloud of shame—and
these high-born Italians. . -
With a sigh she began to put her easel together, think-
‘ing that she must leave Florence in the morning, when
she saw a newspaper lying on the ground.
It was folded upand had evidently fallen from the pocket
of the prince. “
Half mechanically she opened it und found that it was an
_ English newspaper of some weeks back. Still mechanic-
ally she let her eyes wander over the columns, when sud- -
denly she saw amongst the provincial news an account of
her own death off the rocks at Appleford. .
Trembling and shuddering, for the lines brought back
all the torture of that day, she read the succinct narrative,
and found that in very truth the world had accepted her’
death asa fact beyond question. Butastrange coincidence
awaited her, for turning to the births, marriages, and
deaths columns, she saw this announcement—‘‘ At Leyton
Court, on the 25th instant, Martha Hale, aged 68, the faith-
ful servant of the Earl of Ferrers.”’
In one and the same paper was the account of. her own
death, and that of the only person whom she would have
to acquaint with the fact that she was living! ‘The last
link between Margaret Hale and Mary Leslie was broken,
and the past had slipped away as completely as if, indeed,
the tidal wave had washed her out to sea!
CHAPTER XXI. > a
Iv was autumn, but such an autumn as often puts sum
mer toshame. The skies were as blue. the air as soft, as
those of July; but that the leaves had changed thelr
emerald hues for those of russet-brown and gold, one might
well be tempted to believe that the summer. was still with
us, and the winter afar off. : .
The sun poured its generous warmth over the Villa
Capri, laving the white.stone front of the graceful house
with its bright rays, and tinting the statiies on the ter-
races, which, in Italian fashion, rose in three tiers from the
smooth lawn to the salon and dining-room windows. On the
highest of the three terraces, lying back in ahammock chair