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Benson, Robert Hugh, 1871-1914

"Come Rack! Come Rope!"


"You wish to be rid of me!" he cried fiercely.
She looked at him with her lips parted, her eyes astonished, and her
face gone white.
"What did you say?" she said.
His conscience pierced him like a sword. Yet he set his teeth.
"You wish to be rid of me. You are urging me to leave you. You talk to
me of God's will and God's voice, and you have no pity on me at all. It
is an excuse--a blind."
He stood raging. The very fact that he knew every word to be false made
his energy the greater; for he could not have said it otherwise.
"You think that!" she whispered.
There, then, they stood, eyeing one another. A stranger, coming suddenly
upon them, would have said it was a lovers' tiff, and have laughed at
it. Yet it was a deeper matter than that.
Then there surged over the boy a wave of shame; and the truth prevailed.
His fair face went scarlet; and his eyes filled with tears. He dropped
on his knees in the leaves, seized her hand and kissed it.
"Oh! you must forgive me," he said. "But ... but I cannot do it!"

III
It was a great occasion in the hall that Easter Day. The three tables,
which, according to custom, ran along the walls, were filled to-day with
guests; and a second dinner was to follow, scarcely less splendid than
the first, for their servants as well as for those of the household. The
floor was spread with new rushes; jugs of March beer, a full month old,
as it should be, were ranged down the tables; and by every plate lay a
posy of flowers.


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