The Heritage of Dedlow Marsh and Other Tales by Bret Harte
page 23 of 190 (12%)
page 23 of 190 (12%)
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away from Maw's sickness ez if it was smallpox, and Dad's fun'ral
ez if he was a hoss-thief, and left you and me to watch his coffin on the marshes all night till the tide kem back. And now you--YOU that jined hands with me that night over our father lyin' there cold and despised--ez if he was a dead dog thrown up by the tide-- and swore that ez long ez that tide ebbed and flowed it couldn't bring you to them, or them to you agin! You now want--what? What? Why, to go and cast your lot among 'em, and live among 'em, and join in their God-forsaken holler foolishness, and--and--and"-- "Stop! It's a lie! I DIDN'T say that. Don't you dare to say it!" said the girl, springing to her feet, and facing her brother in turn, with flashing eyes. For a moment the two stared at each other--it might have been as in a mirror, so perfectly were their passions reflected in each line, shade, and color of the other's face. It was as if they had each confronted their own passionate and willful souls, and were frightened. It had often occurred before, always with the same invariable ending. The young man's eyes lowered first; the girl's filled with tears. "Well, ef ye didn't mean that, what did ye mean?" said Jim, sinking, with sullen apology, back into his chair. "I--only--meant it--for--for--revenge!" sobbed Maggie. "Oh!" said Jim, as if allowing his higher nature to be touched by this noble instinct. "But I didn't jest see where the revenge kem in." |
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