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Ballou, Maturin Murray, 1820-1895

"The Heart's Secret; Or, the Fortunes of a Soldier: a Story of Love and the Low Latitudes."


"Often."
"I knew it not," replied Lorenzo Bezan, somewhat earnestly.
"It seems a mystery to me that General Bezan, honored by the queen,
with a purse well filled with gold, and promoted beyond all
precedent in his profession, should not rather smile than frown; but
perhaps there is some reason for grief in your heart, and possibly I
am careless, and probing to the quick a wound that may yet be
fresh."
The soldier breathed an involuntary sigh, but said nothing.
"Yes. I see now that I have annoyed you, and should apologize," she
said.
"Nay, not so; you have been more than a friend to me; you have been
an instructress in gentle refinement and all that is lovely in your
sex, and I should but poorly repay such consideration and kindness,
were I not to confide in you all my thoughts."
The countess could not imagine what was coming. She turned pale, and
then a blush stole over her beautiful features, betraying how deeply
interested she was.
"I hope, general," she said, "that if there is aught in which a
person like myself might offer consolation or advice to you, it may
be spoken without reserve."
"Ah, countess, how can I ever repay such a debt as you put me under
by this very touching kindness, this most sisterly consideration
towards me?"
There was a moment's pause in which the eyes of both rested upon the
floor.


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