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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"A Perilous Secret"


Presently Hope caught a glimpse of her, and came forward and leaned out
of the window to enjoy the sight of her. He could do that unobserved, for
he was a long way behind her at a sharp angle.
He was still a widower and this his only child, and lovely as an angel;
and he had seen her grow into ripe loveliness from a sick girl. He had
sinned for her and saved her; he had saved her again from a more terrible
death. He doted on her, and it was always a special joy to him when he
could gloat on her unseen. Then he had no need to make up an artificial
face and hide his adoration from her.
But soon a cloud came over his face and his paternal heart. He knew she
had a lover; and she looked like a girl who was waiting pensively for
him. She had not come there for him whom she knew only as her devoted
friend. At this thought the poor father sighed.
Mary's quick senses caught that, and she turned her head, and her sweet
face beamed.
"You _are_ there, after all, Mr. Hope."
Hope was delighted. Why, it was him she had come to see, after all.


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