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But Frida, better used to the savage ways of the world she had always lived in, made answer, shrinking and crouching, "He's hunted us down, and he's come to fight you." "To fight me!" Bertram exclaimed. "Oh, surely not that! I was told by those who ought best to know, you English had got far beyond the stage of private war and murderous vendetta."
That is the wont of savages. Would it not be better, now Bertram Ingledew had fairly disappeared for ever from their sphere, to patch up a hollow truce for a time at least with Frida, and let all things be to the outer eye exactly as they had always been? The bewildering and brain-staggering occurrences of the last half-hour, indeed, had struck deep and far into his hard Scotch nature.
"He certainly has in some ways charming manners," Philip went on more slowly. "He manages to impress one. If he's a madman, which I rather more than half suspect, it's at least a gentlemanly form of madness." "His manners are more than merely charming," Frida answered, quite enthusiastic, for she had taken a great fancy at first sight to the mysterious stranger. "They've such absolute freedom.
Only be quick. She has just gone into the grove." Without another word the young man turned away, and she presently saw him walking toward the pine grove into which Frida had disappeared. Then she cleared a space among the matted moss and chickweed, and, gathering her skirts about her, sat down to wait.
His coarser nature was ill adapted to recognise that ineffable air as of a superior being that others observed in him. He pulled the trigger and fired. Frida gave one loud shriek of despairing horror. Bertram's body fell back on the bare heath behind it.
Herr Müller has been most kind, and taken much trouble with Hans; but it is my own dear, kind father who pays him for so doing, and tells no one, for he says we should 'not let our left hand know what our right hand doeth." A silence succeeded, broken only by the noise of the small waves of the tideless Mediterranean at their feet. Then Frida spoke, a look of firm resolution on her face.
You can't look me in the face and tell me you love him." "No, not since the first few months," Frida answered, still hanging her head. "But, Bertram, he's my husband, and of course I must obey him." "You must do nothing of the sort," Bertram cried authoritatively. "You don't love him at all, and you mustn't pretend to. It's wrong: it's wicked. Sooner or later " He checked himself.
Miss Drechsler looked, as she felt, disappointed, she had anticipated so much pleasure in having Frida with her in London; but after a few minutes' thought she said, "You are right, Frida: you must, I fear, go first to the Stanfords.
Once or twice, when he had returned from his work, he had found Frida reading to his wife and boy, and he had lingered for a minute or two at the door to catch some of the words; but he made no remark, and interrupted the reading by asking if supper were ready.
He pressed his hand on his heart and said he was very ill, and again muttering the word, 'Frida, Armseliger Frida, he again fainted away. "We did what we could for him, and he rallied a little; and then an hour ago, Gretchen stooping over him heard him say, 'Herr Jesu. As their mate said these words, exclamations of sorrow were heard around. "Ach, poor man!" said one.
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