Thinking we might be robbed, I hid them behind a secret panel in her chamber, purposing to return for them later.

Go, rake out the ashes; you might find a cracked diamond or two, but not the pearls; they fly in fire.

There, that's the truth at last, and much good may it do to you." The Abbot groaned.

Like most Spaniards he was emotional, and could not help it; his bitterness burst from his heart.
Emlyn laughed at him.
"See how the wise and mighty of this world overshoot themselves," she said.

"Clement Maldonado, I have known you for some twenty years, and when I was called the Beauty of Blossholme, and the Abbot who went before you made me the Church's ward, though I ever hated you, who hunted down my father, you had softer words for me than those you name me by to-day.