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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"White Lies"

Whither shall I go?
whither shall I go now?"
"Camile, your words stab her."
"Let none speak but I," said Camille; "none but I have the right to
speak. Poor weak angel that loved yet could not wait: I forgive you. Be
happy, if you can; I bid you be hap-py."
The quiet, despairing tones died away, and with them life seemed to end
to her, and hope to go out. He turned his back quickly on her. He cried
hoarsely, "To the army! Back to the army, and a soldier's grave!"
Then with a prodigious effort he drew himself haughtily up in marching
attitude. He took three strides, erect and fiery and bold.
At the next something seemed to snap asunder in the great heart, and the
worn body that heart had held up so long, rolled like a dead log upon
the ground with a tremendous fall.


CHAPTER XI.

The baroness and Aubertin were just getting out of their carriage, when
suddenly they heard shrieks of terror in the Pleasaunce. They came with
quaking hearts as fast as their old limbs would carry them. They found
Rose and Josephine crouched over the body of a man, an officer.


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