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Smith, Alice Prescott

"Montlivet"

Are you wise to open the past in
that one matter? I have asked you no questions."
She hid her face in her hands. "But I will tell you. I was betrothed
to my cousin,--to Benjamin Starling. I would not marry him now, I
would not marry him now to save him from the rack. I have nothing more
to tell you, monsieur."
I let the moments slip. The east was brightening, and in an hour it
would be dawn. I knew we needed rest. I rose, and, standing behind
the woman, bent over her.
"Mademoiselle Starling," I whispered, "tomorrow, at this time, you will
be Madame Montlivet." She did not stir, and I laid my hand on her
shoulder where it rose slim and sinewy as a boy's from the low neck of
her squaw's dress. I bent lower. "You strange woman," I went on,
marveling at her calm. "You strange woman, with the justice of a man
and the tempers of a child. Have you a woman's heart, I wonder? I do
not talk to you of love, but it may be that it will come to us. I will
try to be good to you, Mary Starling. Carry that promise with you when
I say good-night."
And then she trembled. "Wait, wait, monsieur! There is one word
first. I have tried--I have tried to say it."
I knelt beside her.


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