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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Mary Marston"

"
"I don't know what you mean, sir. It must have been there all the
time."
"That's the point again! Mrs. Redmain swears it was not, and
could not have been, there when she looked for it. It is not like
a small thing, you see. There is something mysterious about it."
He looked hard at Mary.
Now, Mary had very much admired the ring, as any one must who had
an eye for stones; and had often looked at it--into the heart of
it--almost loving it; and while they were talking now, she kept
gazing at it. When Mr. Redmain ended, she stood silent. In her
silence, her attention concentrated itself upon the sapphire. She
stood long, looking closely at it, moving it about a little, and
changing the direction of the light; and, while her gaze was on
the ring, Mr. Redmain's gaze was on her, watching her with equal
attention. At last, with a sigh, as if she waked from a reverie,
she laid the ring on the table. But Mr. Redmain still stared in
her face.
"Now what is it you've got in your head?" he said at last. "I
have been watching you think for three minutes and a half, I do
believe. Come, out with it!"
"Hardly _think_, sir," answered Mary. "I was only plaguing
myself between my recollection of the stone and the actual look
of it. It is so annoying to find what seemed a clear recollection
prove a deceitful one! It may appear a presumptuous thing to say,
but my recollection seems of a finer color.


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