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Updated: September 11, 2025
"Can't I let Peg know where I am?" she entreated when she could speak. "Please! Please!" "I should think not," scoffed Morse. Then, after a moment's consideration, he went on, "You might write her a note, if you say what I dictate. I'll have it mailed from another town. I don't want any one to know you're still in Bellaire." "Could I send her a little money, too?" she asked. "Yes," replied Morse.
Suddenly in fancy Jinnie saw the whole world about teeming with bright ecstatic beings, and multitudes of them were hurrying through the warm summer air to the Bellaire marshes. They were coming coming to help her, to save her from a fate worse than death! Her mind reeled under the terrible pain Maudlin was inflicting upon her, and she closed her eyes in agony.
"It's only Milly and " "Milly and what?" quizzically came the question. "Her kitties see?" She drew aside the towel and exposed the sleeping family. A broad smile lit up the man's face. "Oh, cats! I see! Where're you taking them?" "To Bellaire." "Ah, Bellaire; that's where I'm going. We'll have a nice ride together, almost two hours." "I'm glad." Jinnie leaned back, sighing contentedly.
At Grafton we have choice of two routes: one, to Wheeling, leads us by the beautiful scenery of the Tygart, where the Valley River Falls are laughing and glistening all day and all night, and by the stupendous Bollman bridge at Bellaire, almost two miles long, to Wheeling.
And once more, because he had killed a man who was not without fame, wealth and a wide reaching influence, Paul Bellaire became an exile. "After that night the Countess Louise saw my grandfather only four times. An exile from two countries, two prices upon his head, he played daily with death. Driven from France he had come to America; now driven from America he went back to France.
Then Ramon Garcia, loving the lady for his own, tell Sefton and Lemarc what they shall do. He say Ernestine Dumont shall play sick; she shall say she die and that George hit her; she shall make Señor David take her in his arms, maybe. And we take the Señorita de Bellaire to see!" A gasp broke from Ygerne; a look that no man might read sweeping into her eyes. Drennen knelt still, looking stunned.
"Let's not talk of her, Ernestine," he said a little sharply. "She's too holy for a woman like me to talk about, is she? She's a little cat, Dave Drennen! Can't you see that? Don't you know what she is after . . ." "Ernestine!" he commanded harshly. "If I can help you, let me do it. If I can't, I'll go. In either case we'll not talk of Miss Bellaire."
It was precisely in this region, nearly a hundred years before, that popular sovereignty had almost succeeded in forming a fourteenth State of the Confederacy. There had always been a disparity between the people of these transmontane counties and the tide-water region. The intelligence that Douglas was in Bellaire speedily brought a throng about the hotel in which he was resting.
"There, sir," cried Sothern, and the clerk marvelled at the note in his voice which sounded so like pride of ownership, "there goes a man from whom the world shall hear one of these days. His feet are at last in the right path." The clerk, going to usher in Israel Weyeth, did not hear the last low words: "For which, thank God . . . and Ygerne Bellaire!"
The thought entered his mind, "Ygerne Bellaire had gone on here before him!" He pictured her confident bearing as she climbed down, her capable hands clinging to the rocks, her fearless eyes as she looked down at the blue glint of the lake a thousand feet below, the red curve of her lips as she smiled her contempt of the danger.
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