Rose O' the River by Kate Douglas Smith Wiggin
page 67 of 101 (66%)
page 67 of 101 (66%)
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river-bank. His dull eyes followed it and half uncomprehendingly
saw it settle and glisten in a nest of brown pine-needles. Then he put out his hand for a last clasp and strode away without a word. Presently Rose heard first the scrape of his boat on the sand, then the soft sound of his paddles against the water, then nothing but the squirrels and the woodpeckers and the thrushes, then not even these,--nothing but the beating of her own heart. She sat down heavily, feeling as if she were wide awake for the first time in many weeks. How had things come to this pass with her? Claude Merrill had flattered her vanity and given her some moments of restlessness and dissatisfaction with her lot; but he had not until to-day really touched her heart or tempted her, even momentarily, from her allegiance to Stephen. His eyes had always looked unspeakable things; his voice had seemed to breathe feelings that he had never dared put in words; but to-day he had really stirred her, for although he had still been vague, it was easy to see that his love for her had passed all bounds of discretion. She remembered his impassioned farewells, his despair, his doubt as to whether he could forget her by plunging into the vortex of business, or whether he had better end it all in the river, as so many other broken-hearted fellows had done. She had been touched by his misery, even against her better judgment; and she had intended to confess it all to Stephen sometime, telling him that she should never again accept attentions from a stranger, lest a tragedy like this should |
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