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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Clarence"

They are," her voice hesitated,
"good men and women--they are respected--they are"--
"Recreants and slaves, before whom you, spy as you are--stand a queen!"
broke in Brant, passionately. He stopped and turned towards the window.
After a pause he came back again towards the bed--paused again and then
said in a lower voice--"Four years ago, Alice, in the patio of our house
at Robles, I might have listened to this proposal, and--I tremble to
think--I might have accepted it! I loved you; I was as weak, as selfish,
as unreflecting, my life was as purposeless--but for you--as the
creatures you speak of. But give me now, at least, the credit of a
devotion to my cause equal to your own--a credit which I have never
denied you! For the night that you left me, I awoke to a sense of my own
worthlessness and degradation--perhaps I have even to thank you for that
awakening--and I realized the bitter truth. But that night I found my
true vocation--my purpose, my manhood"--
A bitter laugh came from the pillow on which she had languidly thrown
herself.
"I believe I left you with Mrs. Hooker--spare me the details."
The blood rushed to Brant's face and then receded as suddenly.
"You left me with Captain Pinckney, who had tempted you, and whom I
killed!" he said furiously.


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