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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"A Sappho of Green Springs"


"My thanks come very late, Miss Forsyth," he said, with a faint smile,
"but no one knows better than yourself the reason why, or can better
understand that they mean that the burden you have so generously taken
on yourself is about to be lifted. I know all, Miss Forsyth. Since
yesterday I have learned how much I owe you, even my life I believe,
though I am afraid I must tell you in the same breath that THAT is of
little worth to any one. You have kindly helped and interested yourself
in a poor stranger who turns out to be a nobody, without friends,
without romance, and without even mystery. You found me lying in the
road down yonder, after a stupid accident that might have happened to
any other careless tramp, and which scarcely gave me a claim to a bed
in the county hospital, much less under this kindly roof. It was not my
fault, as you know, that all this did not come out sooner; but while it
doesn't lessen your generosity, it doesn't lessen my debt, and although
I cannot hope to ever repay you, I can at least keep the score from
running on.


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