soft brown eyesto my face, and a little colour stole into her cheeks.
The words were unnecessary. I stood silent, motionless, spell-bound.
"I--I am only her sister--Imogen Grey," she went on.
I have asked her since if she thought me mad: she says not; but I feelas if I must have seemed so. For still I could not speak, thoughcertain words seemed dancing like happy fairies across my brain."Bronzie, my Bronzie! found at last. Bronzie!"
And in another instant good little Bessie Greatrex was in the room, busyintroducing me to her sister, "Miss Grey," and explaining that she hadnot been sure of Imogen's arriving in time for dinner--had I heard thewheels just as we went up to dress?
She was a little confused; but it was not till afterwards that I thoughtof it. In a sort of dream I went in to dinner; in a sort of dream Iwent through that wonderful evening. They were as unlike as sisterscould well be, except for the hair: unlike, and yet alike; for, if thereis one woman in this world as good and true as my Bronzie, it is hersister Bessie.
Yes, she was--she _is_ my Bronzie, though no one knows the name, nor thewhole story, but our two happy selves.
And I had it out with Bessie; she suspected the truth while I wasquestioning her about her recollections, and then she saw it must havebeen Imogen, and not herself: the dragging off poor Greatrex into theconservatory was to tell him to hold his tongue. She wanted so to"surprise" me! I believe, at the bottom of my heart, that Greatrex andshe had planned something of the kind even before they heard myunexpected reminiscences; and if they did, there was no harm in it.But--if she hadn't been my Bronzie, nothing would have been any use; Ishould have lived and died unmarried.
That Girl in Black; and, Bronzie Page 14