The Chase of Saint-Castin and Other Stories of the French in the New World by Mary Hartwell Catherwood
page 18 of 166 (10%)
page 18 of 166 (10%)
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"Then why do you make me unhappy?" "I do not make you unhappy. I do not even think of you." Again she took to her hurried course, forgetting the pail of sap. Saint-Castin seized it, and once more followed her. "I beg that you will kiss me," he pleaded, trembling. The Abenaqui girl laughed aloud. "Does the sagamore think he is an object of veneration, that I should kiss him?" "But will you not at least touch your lips to my forehead?" "No. I touch my lips to holy things." "You do not understand the feeling I have." "No, I do not understand it. If you talked every day, it would do no good. My thoughts are different." Saint-Castin gave her the pail, and looked her in the eyes. "Perhaps you will some time understand," he said. "I lived many wild years before I did." She was so glad to leave him behind that her escape was like a |
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