She

found it, Marian.”

“Where?”

“On the floor of the boathouse. Oh, how shall I begin⁠—how shall I tell you about it! She talked to me so strangely⁠—she looked so fearfully ill⁠—she left me so suddenly!”

Her voice rose as the tumult of her recollections pressed upon her mind. The inveterate distrust which weighs, night and day, on my spirits in this house, instantly roused me to warn her⁠—just as the sight of the brooch had roused me to question her, the moment before.