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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"A Perilous Secret"

She thought all chance of happiness
was gone forever, and she wept bitterly for Walter and herself.
Bartley was not unmoved, but he could not change his nature. The sum he
had obtained by a crime was dearer to him than all his more honest gains.
He was kind on the surface, but hard as marble.
"Go to your room, my child," said he, "and try and compose yourself. I
am not angry with you. I ought to have watched you. But you are so young,
and I trusted to that woman."
Mary retired, sobbing, and he sent for Mrs. Easton.
"Mrs. Easton," said he, "for the first time in all these years I have a
fault to find with you."
"What is that, sir, if you please?"
"Young Clifford has been courting that child, and you have
encouraged it."
"Nay, sir," said the woman, "I have not done that. She never spoke to me,
nor I to her."
"Well, then, you never interfered."
"No, sir; no more than you did."
"Because I never observed it till to-day."
"How could I know that, sir? Everybody else observed it. Mr. Hope would
have been the first to see it, if he had been in your place.


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