Complete 15/21 that was the hardest thing! ... He refused my hand, which my father offered.... Give me the drink!" Her cheeks had flushed crimson during these painful confessions, and when the experienced old man perceived how rapidly the excitement under which she was laboring hastened the approach of death, he begged her to keep silence; but she insisted upon profiting by the time still allowed her, and though the sharp pain with which a short cough tortured her forced her to press her hand upon her breast, she continued: "Then hate came; but it did not last long--and never did I love him more ardently than when I drove after the poor convict--you remember, my boy. |