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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"A First Family of Tasajara"


With a daughter so incomparably gifted,--a matchless creation that was
enough in herself to ennoble that fortune which his own skill and genius
had lifted from the muddy tules of Tasajara where this 'Lige had left
it,--that SHE should be subjected to this annoyance seemed an infamy
that Providence could not allow! What was his mere venial transgression
to this exaggerated retribution?
"Clemmy, girl, I'm going to ask you a question. Listen, pet." He had
begun with a reminiscent tenderness of the epoch of her childhood, but
meeting the unresponding maturity of her clear eyes he abandoned it.
"You know, Clementina, I have never interfered in your affairs, nor
tried to influence your friendships for anybody. Whatever people may
have to say of me they can't say that! I've always trusted you, as I
would myself, to choose your own associates; I have never regretted it,
and I don't regret it now. But I'd like to know--I have reasons to-day
for asking--how matters stand between you and Grant."
The Parian head of Minerva on the bookcase above her did not offer the
spectator a face less free from maidenly confusion than Clementina's
at that moment. Her father had certainly expected none, but he was not
prepared for the perfect coolness of her reply.
"Do you mean, have I ACCEPTED him?"
"No,--well--yes."
"No, then! Is that what he wished to see you about? It was understood
that he was not to allude again to the subject to any one.


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