So, unintentionally, he neglected me, and I was young and
comely then, so the world said, and I was unwise and thoughtless.
Else, I should not have listened to Barode Barouche, who, one summer
in camp on the St. Lawrence River near our camp, opened up for me
new ways of thought, and springs of feeling. He had the gifts that
have made you what you are, a figure that all turn twice to see. He
had eloquence, he was thoughtful in all the little things which John
Grier despised. In the solitude of the camp he wound himself about
my life, and roused an emotion for him false to duty. And so one
day--one single day, for never but the once was I weak, yet that was
enough, God knows. . . . He went away because I would not see
him again; because I would not repeat the offence which gave me
years of sorrow and remorse.
After you became a candidate, he came and offered to marry me, tried
to reopen the old emotion; but I would have none of it. He was
convinced he would defeat you, and he wanted to avoid fighting you.
But when I said, 'Give up the seat to him,' he froze. Of course,
his seat belonged to his party and not alone to himself; but that
was the test I put him to, and the answer he gave was, 'You want me
to destroy my career in politics! That is your proposal, is it?'
He was not honest either in life or conduct.
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