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Armour, Rebecca Agatha, 1846?-1891

"Marguerite Verne"

Verne,
in hysterical tones. "I could see her decked in the robes of the
grave without a murmur, and strew flowers over her form without a
sigh--but to give her up to that monster of deception. Oh, God! it
is dreadful!" And the heart-broken man uttered a groan that would
have aroused the pity of the most callous wretch that ever-breathed.
Dead silence reigned, and the affectionate spaniel looked into his
master's face with a sympathetic look in his eyes, and then began to
lick the weary trembling hands that were crossed upon the troubled
breast.
"Poor brute, you feel for me," said Mr. Verne caressing the animal,
and being aroused to a sense of feeling.
"It must never be--no never," and glancing at his watch he arose and
staggered to the other side of the room.
"I shall see Phillip, God helping me. I now see the error in keeping
the fact from him so long, but it may be all for the best God keep
us faithful."
It was well that Mr. Verne made that prayer, for his faith was
growing weak, and the words gave him strength, and as he wends his
way to Phillip Lawson's office, smiling upon each acquaintance that
he meets, none would suspect the desperate state into which he was
so suddenly plunged.


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