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I know not how incoherently the tale was told; I cannot say how often I interrupted my own recital by some appeal to the past, some half-uttered hope that she had seen the passion which burned within me. I can but remember the bursting feeling of my bosom, as she placed her hand in mine, and said, "It is yours!"
The Indians do not fight by night, but the morrow might bring its tale of battles. So we digged, and shaped our stronghold, and told over our resources, and planned our defences, and all the time hunger and suffering and sorrow and peril stalked about with us.
Compel your mind to think of other things." Torture! Who talks of torture in these enlightened days? Let me tell you the tale of the Conspiracy Case, as revealed in the evidence given in open court, and then judge for yourself.
A breathless silence greeted the speaker as he showed the damnable proofs of Manuel Torres' guilt and treachery, and described with thrilling effect the awful journey through the bowels of the earth. When he concluded the tale that made him a hero in spite of himself, a burst of applause fairly made the residency tremble. Then Sir Arthur rose to his feet.
Truth held me to the full, ludicrous tragedy of the tale, to the cheap character of my old Colonel's undertaking, to the incident of the drum, to the conversation in my room. Likewise, truth forbade me to rekindle her hope. I did not tell her that Nick had come with St. Gre to New Orleans, for of this my own knowledge was as yet not positive. For a long time after I had finished she was silent.
Pondering upon the sad tidings which, in this respect, I should have to forward to your highness, and having already devised a fitting tale whereby to introduce myself to your lordship's aunt, I went to the cottage, which, as I heard in the course of a subsequent conversation, Don Francisco of Riverola had just quitted.
So it was where Henri and Jules were stationed, and the tale was repeated in a hundred different places.
"When I tell you that in this letter, Madame d'Aranjuez has confided to me the true story of her origin, I have probably said enough," continued the young man. "You have said too much or too little," Spicca answered in an almost indifferent tone. "How so?" "Unless you tell me just what she has told you, or show me the letter, I cannot possibly judge of the truth of the tale."
Unquestionably the cowboy meant business. Bud Shoop was illustrating, with quaint and humorous gestures and adjectives, one of his early experiences as Ranger on the Apache Reservation. The men, grouped around the night-fire, smoked and helped the tale along with reminiscent suggestions and ejaculations of interest and curiosity.
In fact his father laughed immensely at the tale. But Mother Bunker had to be assured that the stream was neither deep nor boisterous before she could laugh much. The children had all had a lovely afternoon at Mammy June's and after that day they found most of their enjoyment in running down to her cabin and playing there. This delight was shared by the Armatages too.
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