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Harben, Will N. (William Nathaniel), 1858-1919

"Westerfelt"

"
He stopped, leaned against a fence, and stared at her.
"I've done nothing; I--"
"I know better. She fell in a dead faint as soon as she got to her
room. I undressed her an' put 'er to bed; but something is wrong. She
is out of her head, but she keeps moaning about you, and saying you are
going away. Are you?"
"I thought of it, but I won't. I'll stay if--if you think I ought.
I'll do anything, Mrs. Floyd--anything you wish."
"Well, don't go off. She'll not live a week if you do. Spare her--she
is all I have left on earth. Think, think how she has suffered. She
has not been well since the night she fainted in the blacksmith's shop
an' lay so long on the cold ground--that was all for your sake, too."
"I know that, Mrs. Floyd," he said. "I'll stay. Tell her that--tell
her I'm coming to see her. Can I see her to-night?"
The old woman hesitated.
"No, she's--she's in bed; but I'll tell her what you said, though. It
will do her good. I'm glad I came to see you. I knew you loved her;
you couldn't help it. She has been so good to you, and no woman ever
loved a man more.


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