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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Malcolm"

The clear crystal on the table; the new loaf so
brown without and so white within; the rich, clear complexioned
butter, undebased with a particle of salt; the self satisfied hum
of the kettle in attendance for the guidman's toddy; the bright
fire, the golden glow of the brass fender in its red light, and the
dish of boiled potatoes set down before it, under a snowy cloth;
the pink eggs, the yellow haddock, and the crimson strawberry jam;
all combined their influences--each with its private pleasure
wondrously heightened by the zest of a secret watch and the hope
of discomfitted mischief--to draw into a friendship what had
hitherto been but a somewhat insecure neighbourship. From below
came the sound of the shutters which Mr Mellis was putting up a
few minutes earlier than usual; and when presently they sat down
to the table, and, after prologue judged suitable, proceeded to
enjoy the good things before them, an outside observer would have
thought they had a pleasant evening, if not Time himself, by the
forelock.
But Miss Horn was uneasy. The thought of what Jean might have
already discovered had haunted her all day long; for her reluctance
to open her cousin's drawers had arisen mainly from the dread of
finding justified a certain painful suspicion which had haunted
the whole of her intercourse with Grizell Campbell--namely, that
the worm of a secret had been lying at the root of her life, the
cause of all her illness, and of her death at last.


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