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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Clarence"

But perhaps," he added again grimly, "you already know it."
"It is the marsh where the flowers grow, near the path where you met
Miss Faulkner. I had crossed the marsh to give her a letter," she said
slowly.
A bitter smile came over Brant's face, but passed as quickly.
"Enough," he said quietly, "I will meet you beside the Run, and cross
the marsh with you until you are within hailing distance of your lines.
I will be in plain clothes, Alice," he went on slowly, "for it will not
be the commander of this force who accompanies you, but your husband,
and, without disgracing his uniform, he will drop to your level; for the
instant he passes his own lines, in disguise, he will become, like you,
a spy, and amenable to its penalties."
Her eyes seemed suddenly to leap up to his with that strange look of
awakening and enthusiasm which he had noted before. And in its complete
prepossession of all her instincts she rose from the bed, unheeding her
bared arms and shoulders and loosened hair, and stood upright before
him. For an instant husband and wife regarded each other as unreservedly
as in their own chamber at Robles.
"When shall I go?"
He glanced through the window already growing lighter with the
coming dawn.


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