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Bellamy, Edward, 1850-1898

"The Duke of Stockbridge"

Knowing this it gave him a cruel
pleasure to crush her, and to make her tears flow, and even while his
glowing eyes devoured her face he answered her in a hard, relentless
voice.
"What am I going to do with your father? I am going to whip him with
the others."
She started back, stung into sudden defiance, her eyes flashing, her
bosom tumultuously heaving.
"You will not! You dare not!"
He shrugged his shoulders and replied coldly:
"If you are so sure of that, why did you come to me?"
"Oh, but you will not! You will not!" she cried again, her terror
returning with a rush of tears.
Weeping she was even more beautiful than before. But conscious of her
loathing her beauty only caused him an intolerable ache. In the
self-despite of an embittered hopeless love he gloated over her despair,
even while every nerve thrilled with wildering passion. She caught
that look, at once so passionate and so bitter, and perhaps by her
woman's instinct interpreting it aright, turned away as in despair,
and with her head bent in hopeless grief walked slowly across the
room, laid her hand on the latch and there paused. After a moment she
turned her head quickly and looked at him, as he stood gazing after
her, and shuddered perceptibly.


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