酷兔英语

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get."

He extended his hand. "No fear! I haven't
forgotten a single one of you in the world. Some

gave me more than money--but I am a beggar now
--and you women always had to get me out of my

scrapes."
He swaggered up to the parlour window, and in

the dim light filtering through the blind, looked at
the coin lying in his palm. It was a half-sovereign.

He slipped it into his pocket. She stood a little on
one side, with her head drooping, as if wounded;

with her arms hangingpassive by her side, as if
dead.

"You can't buy me in," he said, "and you can't
buy yourself out."

He set his hat firmly with a little tap, and next
moment she felt herself lifted up in the powerful

embrace of his arms. Her feet lost the ground;
her head hung back; he showered kisses on her face

with a silent and over-mastering ardour, as if in
haste to get at her very soul. He kissed her pale

cheeks, her hard forehead, her heavy eyelids, her
faded lips; and the measured blows and sighs of

the rising tide accompanied the enfolding power
of his arms, the overwhelming might of his caresses.

It was as if the sea, breaking down the wall pro-
tecting all the homes of the town, had sent a wave

over her head. It passed on; she staggered back-
wards, with her shoulders against the wall, ex-

hausted, as if she had been stranded there after a
storm and a shipwreck.

She opened her eyes after awhile; and listening
to the firm, leisurelyfootsteps going away with

their conquest, began to gather her skirts, staring
all the time before her. Suddenly she darted

through the open gate into the dark and deserted
street.

"Stop!" she shouted. "Don't go!"
And listening with an attentive poise of the head,

she could not tell whether it was the beat of the
swell or his fateful tread that seemed to fall cruelly

upon her heart. Presently every sound grew
fainter, as though she were slowly turning into

stone. A fear of this awful silence came to her--
worse than the fear of death. She called upon her

ebbing strength for the final appeal:
"Harry!"

Not even the dying echo of a footstep. Noth-
ing. The thundering of the surf, the voice of the

restless sea itself, seemed stopped. There was not
a sound--no whisper of life, as though she were

alone and lost in that stony country of which she
had heard, where madmen go looking for gold and

spurn the find.
Captain Hagberd, inside his dark house, had

kept on the alert. A window ran up; and in the
silence of the stony country a voice spoke above her

head, high up in the black air--the voice of mad-
ness, lies and despair--the voice of inextinguish-

able hope. "Is he gone yet--that information
fellow? Do you hear him about, my dear?"

She burst into tears. "No! no! no! I don't
hear him any more," she sobbed.

He began to chuckle up there triumphantly.
"You frightened him away. Good girl. Now we

shall be all right. Don't you be impatient, my dear.
One day more."

In the other house old Carvil, wallowing regally
in his arm-chair, with a globe lamp burning by his

side on the table, yelled for her, in a fiendish voice:
"Bessie! Bessie! you Bessie!"

She heard him at last, and, as if overcome by
fate, began to tottersilently back toward her stuffy

little inferno of a cottage. It had no lofty portal,
no terrificinscription of forfeited hopes--she did

not understand wherein she had sinned.
Captain Hagberd had gradually worked himself

into a state of noisy happiness up there.
"Go in! Keep quiet!" she turned upon him

tearfully, from the doorstep below.
He rebelled against her authority in his great

joy at having got rid at last of that "something
wrong." It was as if all the hopefulmadness of the

world had broken out to bring terror upon her
heart, with the voice of that old man shouting of

his trust in an everlasting to-morrow.
End


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