hat won't be fulfilled."
"I think myself that my explanation would calm my cousin's mind; the
possibility that she was not Sir David's wife is, I am convinced, the
most painful part of the trial to her. I shall write it to her, but I
shall also tell her that there is no hope whatever of proving what I
believe to be the truth."
"None at all; do impress that upon her, Sir Edmund. We have nothing to
begin upon. The officer who sent the paper to headquarters is dead; Sir
David's own servant is dead; Sir David's will in favour of Madame
Danterre has been published without even a protest."
"Lady Rose will not be inclined to raise the question."
"No, I believe that is true," said the lawyer; "Lady Rose Bright is a
wise woman."
But Mr. Murray was annoyed to find that Edmund Grosse was far less wise,
and that whatever he might promise to say to Rose he would not really be
content to leave things alone. He intended to go to Florence and to get
into touch with Madame Danterre. Such interference could do no good, and
it might do harm.
"I won't alarm her," said Edmund, "believe me, she will have no reason
to suppose that I am in Florence on her account. I am, in any case,
going to the Italian lakes this autumn, and I have often been offered
the loan of a flat overlooking the Arno. If the offer is still open I
shall accept it. I have long wished to know that fascinating town a
little better."
When Rose received the letter from Edmund it had the effect he had
expected. It was simply calming, not exciting. Rose was even more
anxious than the lawyer that nothing should be attempted in order to
follow up her cousin's suggestion. But she could now let her imagination
be comforted by Edmund's solution of the mystery, and let her fancy rest
in the thought of a very different letter intended for herself. The
words on that scrap of paper no longer burnt with such agony into her
soul, and she no longer felt it a dreadful duty to wear the ring with
its glorious stone so full of light, an object that was to her intensely
repugnant. She would put it away, and with it all dark and morbid
thoughts. She had a life to lead, thoughts to think, actions to do, and
all that was in her own control must escape from the shadow of the past
into a working daylight.
CHAPTER IV
THE WICKED WOMAN IN FLORENCE
Edmund Grosse's friend was delighted to put the flat in the Palazzo at
his disposal. The weather was unusually warm for the au
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