The white veil had fallen to the ground and Gerald retrieved it for her. “Some day you will be my wife, and it would not be well for either of us to remember that in these unhappy days you and I were separated. Me, you may have. She had thought it a mirror, because it was her. When he returned, a moment or so afterwards, he found Sir Rowland standing by the lifeless body of his sister. Sheppard. Thames took it, and beheld the portrait of a young man, apparently—judging from his attire—of high rank, whose proud and patrician features certainly presented a very striking resemblance to his own. Her fingers passed over a cunningly wrought surface of wood, with just the correct amount of protrusion, the precise colours of dyed leather, and cleverly gilded surfaces and neatly painted lettering. Section 2.
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