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

"Dora Thorne"

"
"But," he said, hoarsely, "you promised to be my wife."
"I remember," she acknowledged. "I do not deny it; but, Hugh, I
did not know what I was saying. I spoke without thought. I no
more realized what the words meant than I can understand now what
the wind is saying."
A long, low moan came from his lips; the awful despair in his
face startled her.
"So I have returned for this!" he cried. "I have braved untold
perils; I have escaped the dangers of the seas, the death that
lurks in heaving waters, to be slain by cruel words from the girl
I loved and trusted."
He turned from her, unable to check the bitter sob that rose to
his lips.
"Hush, Hugh," she said, gently, "you grieve me."
"Do you think of my grief?" he cried. "I came here tonight, with
my heart on fire with love, my brain dizzy with happiness. You
have killed me, Beatrice Earle, as surely as ever man was slain."
Far off, among the trees, she saw the glimmer of the light in
Lord Airlie's room. It struck her with a sensation of fear, as
though he were watching her.
"Let us walk on," she said; "I do not like standing here.


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