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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"White Lies"

Poor Raynal, my husband, my benefactor, died. Then I could do more
for you, if not with delicacy, at least with honor; but no! words, and
looks, and tender offices of love were not enough, I must give stronger
proof. Dear Camille, I have been reared in a strict school: and perhaps
none of your sex can know what it cost me to go to Frejus that day with
him I love."
"My own Josephine!"
"I made but one condition: that you would not rob me of my mother's
respect: to her our hasty marriage would appear monstrous, heartless.
You consented to be secretly happy for six months. One fortnight has
passed, and you are discontented again."
"Oh, no! do not think so. It is every word true. I am an ungrateful
villain."
"How dare you say so? and to me! No! but you are a man."
"So I have been told; but my conduct to you, sweet one, has not been
that of a man from first to last. Yet I could die for you, with a smile
on my lips. But when I think that once I lifted this sacrilegious hand
against your life--oh!"
"Do not be silly, Camille. I love you all the better for loving me well
enough to kill me.


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