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"Hounded out er France, poor souls, just like my own great-great-great-granther's father!" he said, referring to the subject again on that last Saturday evening when the frequenters of The Greenbush were to be stirred shortly by the news they considered best of all: Champney Googe's unexpected arrival. "I was up thar yisterd'y an' it beats all how snug they're fixed!
"And what is he doing with a revolver in his hand?" "Give me that pistol, at once," commanded Mr. Yollop. "Hand it over!" "Not on your life," cried Mr. Smilk triumphantly. He faced Mrs. Champney. "Take off them rings, you. Put 'em here on the desk. Lively, now! And don't yelp! Do you get me? Mrs. Champney stared unblinkingly, speechless. "Put up your hands, Yollop!" ordered Mr. Smilk.
She told of herself but of Champney Googe's unmanly temptation of her honor, of his mad passion for her, she said never a word; her two pronounced traits of chastity and loyalty forbade it, as well as the desire of a loving woman to shield him she loved in spite of herself.
The struggle going on in that human breast beside the window, the priest knew to be a terrible one a spiritual and a mental hand-to-hand combat, against almost over-powering odds, in the arena of the soul. The sun was reddening the east when Champney turned from the window, rose quietly, and stepped to the side of the cot.
After the boat was well out into the harbor, the detective entered the cabin to investigate. He returned to report to Father Honoré that the man was not inside. "Outside then," said the priest, drawing a sharp short breath. The two made their way forward, keeping well behind the team. Father Honoré saw Champney standing by the outside guard chain. He was whitened by the clinging snow.
"Ain't you a corker!" she said admiringly and, waving her hand again to him, ran to the house. Champney followed more slowly to lay the case before Ann and Hannah. On his way homeward he found himself wondering if he had ever seen the child before.
" Term for exemplary conduct?" Champney finished for him. "Yes. I can't realize this, Champney; it's six years and four months " "Years months! You might say six eternities. Do you know, I can't get used to it the freedom, I mean. At times during these last twenty-four hours, I have actually felt lost without the work, the routine the solitude."
"Poggi Poggi" he said to himself; he was thinking it out. "Luigi Poggi Luigi Ah!" It was a long-drawn breath. He had found his clew. He heard again that cry: "Champney, O Champney! what has he done to you!" The night came back to him in all its detail. It sickened him.
My ambition has been overweening for Champney's material success I have urged him on, when I should have restrained. I have aided him to the extent of my ability to attain his end. I longed to see him in a position that, financially, would far out-shine hers. I felt it would compensate in part. I loved my son and I loved in him Louis Champney.
She swayed back towards the table and leaned heavily upon it, as fearing to lose her hold lest she should sink to her knees. Mrs. Champney was recovering in a measure from the first excitement consequent upon the shock of seeing the woman she hated standing so suddenly in her presence.
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