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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"Uncle Bernac A Memory of the Empire"


'For your sake because I suspected, as I have told you, that my father's
intentions might be unfriendly. For mine--'
'Why for yours?' I asked in surprise, for she had stopped in
embarrassment.
'You have told me that your heart is another's. I may tell you that my
hand is also promised, and that my love has gone with it.'
'May all happiness attend it!' said I. 'But why should this make my
coming unwelcome?'
'That thick English air has dimmed your wits, cousin,' said she, shaking
her stately head at me. 'But I can speak freely now that I know that
this plan would be as hateful to you as to me. You must know, then,
that if my father could have married us he would have united all claims
to the succession of Grosbois. Then, come what might--Bourbon or
Buonaparte--nothing could shake his position.'
I thought of the solicitude which he had shown over my toilet in the
morning, his anxiety that I should make a favourable impression, his
displeasure when she had been cold to me, and the smile upon his face
when he had seen us hand in hand.


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