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Mackay, Isabel Ecclestone, 1875-1928

"Up the Hill and Over"


"She told me you were dead."
The flash of understanding on her face showed that she, at least, had
shifted part of the puzzle into place.
"I see now," she said slowly, "I have wondered ever since I saw the
letter. But I did not think she would go that far. Yet it was the
simplest way. There was no date on the letter--but I guessed that it
must have come too late."
"Too late?"
"Yes, or she would never have dared. Besides she might not have wanted
to. She didn't know. I never had the courage to tell her. But if the
letter had come in time--"
She faltered, growing confused under his intense gaze.
"In time for what?" he prompted patiently.
She brushed the question aside.
"Did you believe her when she said that?"
"Yes. Why should I have doubted? It seemed to be the end. I fainted on
the doorstep. A long illness followed, when it was at its worst a friend
came--helped me to pull out. When I was well again, I searched for your
mother, employed detectives, but we never found her. Neither did we find
anything upon which to hang a doubt of what she had told me.


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