Then spoke
what he truly felt: the only eulogy the woman would ever have.
"She was my governess, and treated me kindly. But I never told her. .
.that I loved her, too." He started to lower his head in despair, then
raised it again in sudden resolution. "We've got to get Mary out, and
away from all of this. She deserves so much more, than this."
"We will, Stephen. Tonight." A pause. "Would you like me to help you?"
"No. It is my responsibility. Mine....." The realization stunned him.
He fought back a sob. "Dear God, I am weary of graves."
"Then let us vow to do the work before us well," said Michael, "that
there may be no more."
"You don't understand," said Stephen. "If we rescue my sister and her
guardian, and you take them away from here, your fight is ended. But
mine is just begun."
Michael wrestled with his own emotions, then came up and put a hand on
the troubled man's shoulder.
"You've made a good beginning, my friend. You've looked the Devil in
the eye."
Purceville met his penetrating gaze, puzzled that these simple words
should mean so much.
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