Explore "His Darling Sin" by Mary Elizabeth Braddon on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, / And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, / To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, / And never shall it more be gracious. / O, she is fallen / Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea / Hath drops too few to wash her clean again. "
Grace Perivale could hardly live through the day, while she was waiting for the appearance of the family solicitor. Since Lady Morningside's visit she had been on fire with impatience to do something, wise or foolish, futile or useful, towards clearing her character. She had been all the more eager, perhaps, because in her morning ride she had seen a man whose scorn -- or that grave distance which she took for scorn -- pained her more than the apostasy of all her other friends.