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Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849

"Classic Mystery and Detective Stories: Modern English"


I told her what had happened; and, though her cheek grew visibly paler,
she retained perfect control over her senses.
"You see now that I am safe," said I, in conclusion. "They do not mean to
harm me; for, had they chosen, I was a dead man last night."
She laid her hand upon my arm.
"And I had no presentiment!" she cried.
Her accent thrilled me with delight. I put my arm about her, and strained
her to my side; and, before either of us was aware, her hands were on my
shoulders and my lips upon her mouth. Yet up to that moment no word of
love had passed between us. To this day I remember the touch of her cheek,
which was wet and cold with the rain; and many a time since, when she has
been washing her face, I have kissed it again for the sake of that morning
on the beach. Now that she is taken from me, and I finish my pilgrimage
alone, I recall our old loving kindnesses and the deep honesty and
affection which united us, and my present loss seems but a trifle in
comparison.
We may have thus stood for some seconds--for time passes quickly with
lovers--before we were startled by a peal of laughter close at hand. It
was not natural mirth, but seemed to be affected in order to conceal an
angrier feeling. We both turned, though I still kept my left arm about
Clara's waist; nor did she seek to withdraw herself; and there, a few
paces off upon the beach, stood Northmour, his head lowered, his hands
behind his back, his nostrils white with passion.


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