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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Mary Marston"

Her cousin was in her own room
safe with a novel, and there was Mewks fast asleep in an easy-
chair in the study, with the doors of the dressing-room and
chamber ajar! She crept into the sick-room. There was the tumbler
with the medicine! and her fingers were on the vial in her
pocket. The dying man slept.
She drew near the table by the bed. He stirred as if about to
awake. Her limbs, her brain seemed to rebel against her will.--
But what folly it was! the man was not for this world a day
longer; what could it matter whether he left it a few hours
earlier or later? The drops on his brow rose from the pit of his
agony; every breath was a torture; it were mercy to help him
across the verge; if to more life, he would owe her thanks; if to
endless rest, he would never accuse her.
She took the vial from her pocket. A hand was on the lock of the
door! She turned and fled through the dressing-room and study,
waking Mewks as she passed. He, hurrying into the chamber, saw
Mary already entered.
When Sepia learned who it was that had scared her, she felt she
could kill her with less compunction than Mr. Redmain. She hated
her far worse.
"You _must_ get the viper out of-the house, Mewks," she
said. "It is all your fault she got into the room."
"I'm sure I'm willing enough," he answered, "--even if it wasn't
you as as't me, miss! But what am I to do? She's that brazen, you
wouldn' believe, miss! It wouldn' be becomin' to tell you what I
think that young woman fit to do.


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