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Nicholson, Meredith, 1866-1947

"The Port of Missing Men"

I hope
you would not believe me capable of speaking in disparagement,
Mademoiselle,--you must know--"
The water tumbled down the rock into the vale; the soft air was sweet
with the scent of pines. An eagle cruised high against the blue overhead.
Shirley's hand tightened on the rein, and Fanny lifted her head
expectantly.
Chauvenet went on rapidly in French:
"You must know why I am here--why I have crossed the sea to seek you in
your own home. I have loved you, Mademoiselle, from the moment I first
saw you in Florence. Here, with only the mountains, the sky, the wood,
I must speak. You must hear--you must believe, that I love you! I offer
you my life, my poor attainments--"
"Monsieur, you do me a great honor, but I can not listen. What you ask is
impossible, quite impossible. But, Monsieur--"
Her eyes had fallen upon a thicket behind him where something had
stirred. She thought at first that it was an animal of some sort; but she
saw now quite distinctly a man's shabby felt hat that rose slowly until
the bearded face of its wearer was disclosed.
"Monsieur!" cried Shirley in a low tone; "look behind you and be careful
what you say or do.


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