AC dBooks

Let me
do it. Give me the right of one you care enough for to allow him to
speak on your behalf."
I knew what that meant. I knew that I was tottering on the very edge of
a precipice, and to save myself I tried to think of Father Dan, of
Martin's mother, of my own mother, and since I could not speak I
struggled to pray.
"Don't say you can't. If you do I shall go away a sorrowful man. I shall
go at once too--to-night or to-morrow morning at latest, for my heart
bleeds to look at you and I can't stay here any longer to see you
suffer. It is not torture to me--it's hell!"
And then the irrepressible, overwhelming, inevitable moment came. Martin
laid hold of my right hand and said in his tremulous voice:
"Mary . . . Mary . . . I . . . I love you!"
I could hear no more. I could not think or pray or resist any longer.
The bitter struggle was at an end. Before I knew what I was doing I was
dropping my head on to his breast and he with a cry of joy was gathering
me in his arms.
I was his. He had taken his own.


Pages:
543 544 545 546 547 548 549 550 551 552 553 554 555 556 557 558 559 560 561 562 563 564 565 566 567