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"What in the world—" she began in alarm, but Elinor silenced her questioning with a weak wave of one tired hand. "Yes, my mother was. So you see, major, she could not have dropped the handkerchief in the bedroom of poor dear Maurice." "Mercy on us!" she ejaculated, rising hurriedly. "I've gone and made you late for breakfast!".

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"Dead!" shrieked Mrs. Dallas, all her superstition roused by the word. "Come away from that man, Isabella." Slowly I unbuttoned that black dress that symbolised the ending of six years of the blackness, and the rosy dimpling thing in snowy lingerie with tags of blue ribbon that stood in front of my mirror was as new-born as any other hour-old similar bundle of linen and lace in Hillsboro. Fortunately, an old white lawn dress could be pulled from the top shelf of the cupboard in a hurry, and the Molly that came out of that room was ready for life—and a lot of it. It was Dido who spoke first. She noticed that the eyes of her mistress constantly strayed in the direction of "Ashantee," and with the jealousy begotten of deep affection, she guessed that the girl's thoughts were fixed upon the much-hated Maurice. At once she spoke reproachfully, and in the grotesque negro dialect, which, however, coming from Dido's mouth, inspired no one with merriment. Later on in the day Jen sent a letter to "The Wigwam," asking Mrs. Dallas to come with her daughter the next morning at eleven o'clock. He did not explain that Dr. Etwald would be present, as he knew the temper of Mrs. Dallas. Whatever might be at stake, even if it was to her own interest, she would refuse to meet the man toward whom she bore so strong a hatred. Therefore, Jen decided to be diplomatic, and keep silent as to the visit of Etwald. During the afternoon a note was brought to Jen, in which Mrs. Dallas promised to come and to bring Isabella..