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II As Seen By Detective Sweetwater Anna Katharine Green

XIX The Danger Moment

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A little while; then that slight rustling again of the unfolding sheet. The following was read, and then the fourth and last:


    "Did you think I had never seen you till that day we met in Lenox?
    I am going to tell you a secret - a great, great secret - such a
    one as a woman hardly whispers to her own heart.

    "One day, in early summer, I was sitting in St. Bartholomew's
    Church on Fifth Avenue, waiting for the services to begin. It
    was early and the congregation was assembling. While idly
    watching the people coming in, I saw a gentleman pass by me up
    the aisle, who made me forget all the others. He had not the
    air of a New Yorker; he was not even dressed in city style, but
    as I noted his face and expression, I said way down in my heart,
    'That is the kind of man I could love; the only man I have ever
    seen who could make me forget my own world and my own people.'
    It was a passing thought, soon~ forgotten. But when in that hour
    of embarrassment and peril on Greylock Mountain, I looked up into
    the face of my rescuer and saw again that countenance which so
    short a time before had called into life impulses till then
    utterly unknown, I knew that my hour was come. And that was why
    my confidence was so spontaneous and my belief in the future so

    "I trust your love which will work wonders; and I trust my own,
    which sprang at a look but only gathered strength and permanence
    when I found that the soul of the man I loved bettered his outward
    attractions, making the ideal of my foolish girlhood seem as
    unsubstantial and evanescent as a dream in the glowing noontide."

"My Own:

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    "I can say so now; for you have written to me, and I have the
    dancing words with which to silence any unsought doubt which might
    subdue the exuberance of these secret outpourings.

    "I did not expect this. I thought that you would remain as silent
    as myself. But men's ways are not our ways. They cannot exhaust
    longing in purposeless words on scraps of soulless paper, and I am
    glad that they cannot. I love you for your impatience; for your
    purpose, and for the manliness which will win for you yet all that
    you covet of fame, accomplishment and love. You expect no reply,
    but there are ways in which one can keep silent and yet speak.
    Won't you be surprised when your answer comes in a manner you have
    never thought of?"

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