There is a copy of the certificate, which I myself obtained on
Monday last. Read the date of the marriage for yourself. It is Friday,
the twentieth of March--the March of this present year."
As he pointed to the certificate, that faint breath of air among the
shrubs beneath the window, which had startled Miss Garth, stirred the
leaves once more. He heard it himself this time, and turned his face, so
as to let the breeze play upon it. No breeze came; no breath of air that
was strong enough for him to feel, floated into the room.
Miss Garth roused herself mechanically, and read the certificate. It
seemed to produce no distinct impression on her: she laid it on one side
in a lost, bewildered manner. "Twelve years," she said, in low, hopeless
tones--"twelve quiet, happy years I lived with this family. Mrs.
Vanstone was my friend; my dear, valued friend--my sister, I might
almost say. I can't believe it. Bear with me a little, sir, I can't
believe it yet."
"I shall help you to believe it when I tell you more," said Mr.
Pendril--"you will understand me better when I take you back to the time
of Mr. Vanstone's early life. I won't ask for your attention just yet.
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