Miriam Monfort - A Novel by Catherine A. Warfield
page 108 of 567 (19%)
page 108 of 567 (19%)
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these friendless girls, and be prepared, I counsel you, with your
accounts, to meet Him when the day of reckoning comes! And it may come sooner than you suspect. I, for one, shall keep an unslumbering eye upon you and your devices while I live, even though at a distance.--Miriam, I am always ready to assist you, my dear, in any way possible to me--call on me freely. Remember, I am your friend." He came to me, he took me to his breast, he kissed my brow, his tears were on my cheek. I cast my arms about his dear, old, noble neck; I leaned my quivering face against his bosom. "I always loved you," I said. "I am so sorry, so sorry, Mr. Stanbury!" I knew no more--the words forsook my lips. Again that wild whirl of waters surged upon my ears; I seemed to be falling, falling down a black, steep, bottomless shaft, beneath which the sea was roaring--falling head-foremost--hurled as if with a strong impulse down the abyss to certain destruction. Then all was still. The jaws of my dark malady had opened to receive me. I woke as from a long, deep, and unrefreshing slumber. I was lying in my bed, with the curtains, drawn closely around it--the heavy crimson curtains, with their white inside draperies and snowy tufted fringes. I had a vague consciousness that some hand had recently parted them, and the tassels on the valance were quivering still with the impulse they had thus received. Then I heard voices. "How much longer will it endure, Evelyn?" "Five or six hours, I suppose. What time is it now?" The clock in the hall struck ten before the question could be answered. "Ten! It was about three when she was seized," rejoined the voice of |
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