SEARCH
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Prev | Current Page 173 | Next

Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"White Lies"

He I love
is still a traitor to France and me, and I am wretched forever. Oh! that
I were dead! oh! that I were dead! No; don't speak to me: never mind me;
this madness will pass as it has before, and leave me a dead thing
among the living. Ah! sister, why did you wake me from my dream? I was
drifting so calmly, so peacefully, so dead, and painless, drifting over
the dead sea of the heart towards the living waters of gratitude and
duty. I was going to make more than one worthy soul happy; and seeing
them happy, I should have been content and useful--what am I now?--and
comforted other hearts, and died joyful--and young. For God is good; he
releases the meek and patient from their burdens."
With this came a flood of tears; and she leaned against a bough with her
forehead on her arm, bowed like a wounded lily.
"Accursed be that man's name, and MY tongue if ever I utter it again in
your hearing!" cried Rose, weeping bitterly. "You are wiser than I, and
every way better. O my darling, dry your tears! Here he comes: look!
riding across the park."
"Rose," cried Josephine, hastily, "I leave all to you.


Pages:
161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185