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The voice was in keeping with eyes, and hair, and dress pure, refined, cultured. Mr. Monteith's resolution was quickly made; he secured his mail and followed Edna. "Who could she be? He supposed he knew all the young ladies in town, but where did this revelation of loveliness drop from?" He turned corner after corner as she did, not caring where he went, only so that he kept her in view.
"And though she's not the least interested in keeping up Robert Monteith's proprietary claim on your life and freedom, I'm beginning to understand now that it would be an offence against that mysterious and incomprehensible entity they call RESPECTABILITY if she were to allow me to receive you in her rooms. It's all very curious. But, of course, while I remain, I must be content to submit to it.
Folliott's true inwardness, on that subject at least, than she had lately cared to have of Monteith's.
You must go back to your husband for the present, I suppose, the circumstances compel it, though I don't approve of it; but you must see me again... and soon... and often, just the same as usual. I won't go to your house, of course: the house is Monteith's; and everywhere among civilised and rational races the sanctity of the home is rightly respected.
Not a trace was left on the heath of Robert Monteith's crime: not a dapple of blood, not a clot of gore: only a pale blue flame and a persistent image represented the body that was once Bertram Ingledew's. Again, even as they looked, a still weirder feeling began to creep over them. The figure, growing fainter, seemed to fade away piecemeal in the remote distance.
You are not and never were Robert Monteith's, my Frida. So now, good-night, till Monday at two, beside the stile in Middle Mill Meadows!" She clung to him for a moment in a passionate embrace. He let her stop there, while he smoothed her dark hair with one free hand.
When they came again to the ground where the snow lay on a level, Edna was put again upon her feet, her hand drawn through Mr. Monteith's arm, and the two plodded on. It was almost a silent journey; the snow coming directly in their faces, and the wind fairly taking their breaths, made it no time for formal talk.
To incline Edward to the proffer of so large a bribe, De Valence instanced Monteith's having volunteered, while he commanded with Sir Eustace Maxwell on the borders, to betray the forces under him to the English general. The treachery was accepted; and for its execution he received a casket of uncounted gold. Some other proofs of his devotion to England were mentioned by De Valence.
He felt he was responsible for having introduced the mysterious Alien, however unwillingly, into the bosom of Robert Monteith's family. Now, Philip was not rich, and Frida was supposed to have "made a good match of it" that is to say, she had married a man a great deal wealthier than her own upbringing. So Philip, after his kind, thought much of the Monteith connection.
"Murder that urchin!" cried Monteith, who, seeing from without the carnage of his men, feared that Wallace might yet make his escape. "Hah!" cried Wallace, at the sound of Monteith's voice giving such an order "then we are betrayed but not by Heaven! Strike, one of you, that angel youth," cried he, "and you will incur damnation!" He spoke to the winds.
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