'Tis true my past concealment
does not argue in my favour.--I concealed that which was no fault of my
own, but what the injustice of society has made a crime."
"I am not here for discussion; and I suppose I must trust to your
_honour_," interrupted Mr. Bates, with a sneer. "But remember, if the
letters are not forthcoming to-morrow I shall be here again, and then,"
concluded he in a threatening tone, "my visit will not be as harmless as
this has been!"
After they had gone, Clarence rose and walked feebly to his desk, which,
with great effort and risk, he removed to the bed-side; then taking from it
little Birdie's letters, he began their perusal.
Ay! read them again--and yet again; pore over their contents--dwell on
those passages replete with tenderness, until every word is stamped upon
thy breaking heart--linger by them as the weary traveller amid Sahara's
sand pauses by some sparkling fountain in a shady oasis, tasting of its
pure waters ere he launches forth again upon the arid waste beyond. This is
the last green spot upon thy way to death; beyond whose grim portals, let
us believe, thou and thy "little Birdie" may meet again.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
"Murder will out."
The city clocks had just tolled out the hour of twelve, the last omnibus
had rumbled by, and the silence without was broken only at rare intervals
when some belated citizen passed by with hurried footsteps towards his
home.
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