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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"A Sappho of Green Springs"

"
"Stop!" said the young girl, her eyes, which had been fixed with the
agony of conviction, suddenly flashing with the energy of despair. "And
you call yourself the servant of my uncle, and dare say this of his
nephew?"
"Yes, senora," broke out the old man, passionately. "It is because I am
the servant of your uncle that I, and I ALONE, dare say it to you! It
is because I perjured my soul, and have perjured my soul to deny it
elsewhere, that I now dare to say it! It is because I, your servant,
knew it from one of my countrymen, who was of the gang,--because I,
Miguel, knew that your brother was not far away that night, and because
I, whom you would dismiss, have picked up this pocket-book of Randolph's
and your brother's ring which he have dropped, and I have found beneath
the body of the man you sent me to fetch."
He drew a packet from his bosom, and tossed it on the desk before her.
"And why have you not told me this before?" said Josephine,
passionately.
Miguel shrugged his shoulders.


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