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Brame, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Monica), 1836-1884

"Dora Thorne"


I will see the man, and give him your letter. Beatrice, let me
persuade you. You can not free yourself. I see no way--running
away is all nonsense--but to tell Lord Earle and your lover;
anything would be better than to live as you do, a drawn sword
hanging over your heart. Tell them, and trust to their kindness;
at least you will have peace of mind then. They will prevent him
from annoying you."
"I can not," she said, and the breath came gasping from her lips.
"Lillian, you do not know what Lord Airlie is to me. I could
never meet his anger. If ever you love any one you will
understand better. He is everything to me. I would suffer any
sorrow, even death, rather than see his face turned coldly from
me."
She loosened her grasp of Lillian's hands and fell upon the
floor, weeping bitterly and passionately. Her sister, bending
over her, heard the pitiful words--"My love, my love! I can not
lose my love!"
The passionate weeping ceased, and the proud, sad face grew calm
and still.
"You can not tell what I have suffered, Lily," she said, humbly.
"See, my pride is all beaten down, only those who have had a
secret, eating heart and life away, can tell what I have endured.


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