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Rose O' the River by Kate Douglas Smith Wiggin
page 67 of 101 (66%)
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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