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Augusta, Clara, 1839-1905

"The Fatal Glove"


"I do love you," she said, "God only knows how dearly!"
He looked at her with gentle, pitying eyes, but he did not touch the red
lips so near his own. He could not be a hypocrite.
"I will be good to you, Alexandrine. God helping me, you shall never have
cause for complaint. I will make your life as happy as I can. I will give
you all that my life's shipwreck spared me. Will that content you? Will
you be my wife?"
Still she did not reply.
"Are you afraid to risk it?" he asked, almost sadly.
"No, I am not afraid! I will risk everything!" she answered.
Meantime, what of Margie Harrison? Through the dull, stormy day she had
been whirled along like the wind. The train was an express, and made few
stoppages. Margie took little note of anything which occurred. She sat
in her hard seat like one in a trance, and paid no heed to the lapse of
time, until the piteous whining of Leo warned her that night was near,
and the poor dog was hungry. At the first stopping-place she purchased
some bread and meat for him, but nothing for herself. She could not have
swallowed a mouthful.
Still the untiring train dashed onward. Boston was reached at last.
She got out, stood confused and bewildered, gazing around her. It was
night, and the place was strange to her.


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