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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Frontier Stories"

"
"If he's such a good man, why do you hesitate?" she replied bitterly.
"Why don't you give me up at once, and do a service to one of your
friends?"
"I do not even know him," returned Low, opening his clear eyes upon
her. "I've promised to hide you here, and I shall hide you as well from
him as from anybody."
Teresa did not reply, but suddenly dropping down upon the ground buried
her face in her hands and began to sob convulsively. Low turned
impassively away, and putting aside the bark curtain climbed into the
hollow tree. In a few moments he reappeared, laden with provisions and
a few simple cooking utensils, and touched her lightly on the shoulder.
She looked up timidly; the paroxysm had passed, but her lashes yet
glittered.
"Come," he said, "come and get some breakfast. I find you have eaten
nothing since you have been here--twenty-four hours."
"I didn't know it," she said, with a faint smile. Then seeing his
burden, and possessed by a new and strange desire for some menial
employment, she said hurriedly, "Let me carry something--do, please,"
and even tried to disencumber him.


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