At
last passionate sobs made it evident that she was concealed behind
a great oak a little on his left. Approaching cautiously, he heard
her moan:
"Oh, this is worse than death! He makes me feel as if even God had
no mercy for me. But I will expiate my wrong; I will, at the
bitterest sacrifice which a woman can make."
She sprang up to meet Ackland standing with folded arms before
her. She started violently and leaned against the tree for
support. But the weakness was momentary, for she wiped the tears
from her eyes, and then turned to him so quietly that only her
extreme pallor proved that she realized the import of her words.
"Mr. Ackland," she asked, "have you Mr. Munson's address?"
It was his turn now to start, but he merely answered: "Yes."
"Do--do you think he still cares for me?"
"Undoubtedly."
"Since then you are so near a friend, will you write to him that I
will try"--she turned away and would not look at him as, after a
moment's hesitation, she concluded her sentence--"I will try to
make him as happy as I can.
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