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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Mary Marston"

I pity the poor ostrich,
and must I admire the man of whose kind he is the type, or take
him in any sense for a man of courage? Wait till the thing stares
you in the face, and then, whether you be brave man or coward,
you will at all events care little about courage or cowardice.
The nearer a man is to being a true man, the sooner will
conscience of wrong make a coward of him; and herein Redmain had
a far-off kindred with the just. After the night he had passed,
he was now in one of his terror-fits; and this much may be said
for his good sense--that, if there was anywhere a hell for the
use of anybody, he was justified in anticipating a free entrance.
"Mewks!" he called, suddenly, and his tone was loud and angry.
Mewks was by his bedside instantly.
"Get out with you! If I find you in this room again, without
having been called, I will kill you! I am strong enough for that,
even without this pain. They won't hang a dying man, and where I
am going they will rather like it."
Mewks vanished.
"You need not mind, my girl," he went on, to Mary. "Everybody
knows I am ill--very ill. Sit down there, on the foot of the bed,
only take care you don't shake it, and let me talk to you.
People, you know, say nowadays there ain't any hell--or perhaps
none to speak of?"
"I should think the former more likely than the latter," said
Mary.
"You don't believe there is any? I _am_ glad of that! for
you are a good girl, and ought to know.


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