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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Drift from Two Shores"

Then fever supervened, and delirium, and Dr. Duchesne
telegraphed for his friends; but at the end of a week and the
opening of a summer day the storm passed, as the other storm had
passed, and he awoke, enfeebled, but at peace. Bessy was at his
side--he was glad to see--alone.
"Bessy, dear," he said hesitatingly, "when I am stronger I have
something to tell you."
"I know it all, Jem," she said with a trembling lip; "I heard it
all--no, not from THEM, but from your own lips in your delirium.
I'm glad it came from YOU--even then."
"Do you forgive me, Bessy?"
She pressed her lips to his forehead and said hastily, and then
falteringly, as if afraid of her impulse:--
"Yes. Yes."
"And you will still be mother to the child?"
"HER child?"
"No dear, not hers, but MINE!"
She started, cried a little, and then putting her arms around him,
said: "Yes."
And as there was but one way of fulfilling that sacred promise,
they were married in the autumn.

TWO SAINTS OF THE FOOT-HILLS

It never was clearly ascertained how long they had been there.


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