"Grace? Grace? What is she doing here?"
"Nursing him, like an angel as she is!" said Mark.
"She is my daughter now, Tom; and has been these twelve months past."
Tom was silent, as one astonished.
"If she is not, she will be soon," said he quietly, between his clenched teeth. "Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me for five minutes, and see to my father:"—and he walked straight out of the room, closing the door behind him—to find Grace waiting in the passage.
She was trembling from head to foot, stepping to and fro, her hands and face all but convulsed; her left hand over her bosom, clutching at her dress, which seemed to have been just disarranged; her right drawn back, holding something; her lips parted, struggling to speak; her great eyes opened to preternatural wideness, fixed on him with an intensity of eagerness;—was she mad?
At last words bubbled forth: "There! there! There it is!—the belt!— your belt! Take it! take it, I say!"
He stood silent and wondering; she thrust it into his hand.
"Take it! I have carried it for you—worn it next my heart, till it has all but eaten into my heart. To Varna, and you were not there!—Scutari, Balaklava, and you were not there!—I found it, only a week after!—I told you I should! and you were gone!—Cruel, not to wait! And Mr. Armsworth has the money—every farthing—and the gold:—he has had it these two years!—I would give you the belt myself; and now I have done it, and the snake is unclasped from my heart at last, at last, at last!"
Her arms dropped by her side, and she burst into an agony of tears.