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Updated: June 29, 2025
I said nothing, and he repeated querulously, between his gasps: "I tried to kill you, Hewlett. Are you going to leave me to die alone in the dark now?" "No," I answered. "It doesn't matter, Lacroix." And, really, it did not matter. "I wanted to kill you," his voice rambled on. "Leroux is dead. I watched him die. I thought if you died, too, no one but I would know the secret of the gold.
Lord Bothwell, like Queen Mary, has been terribly maligned. Unlike her, he has found only a few defenders. Maurice Hewlett has drawn a picture of him more favorable than many, and yet it is a picture that repels. Bothwell, says he, was of a type esteemed by those who pronounce vice to be their virtue.
I started back, keeping this time to the right side of the tunnel, until I heard the gurgling of the brook. Then I heard Jacqueline's footstep. "Who is it?" she called wildly. "M. Hewlett! My father!" I caught her as she swayed toward me. "He has gone, Jacqueline," I said. "I went into the tunnel to try to find the way. He had been feigning sleep, and he crept after me. I tried to stop him.
I could do with some Hewlett of the 'Forest Lovers' kind. Or with Joseph Conrad in his Kew Palm-house mood. And there is a book, I once looked into it at a man's room in London; I don't know the title, but it was by Richard Garnett, and it was all about gods who were in reduced circumstances but amidst sunny picturesque scenery. Scenery without steel or poles or wire.
Let Maurice Hewlett tell the rest: "They carried dead Simonetta through the streets of Florence, with her pale face uncovered and a crown of myrtle in her hair. People thronging there held their breath, or wept to see such still loveliness; and her poor parted lips wore a patient little smile, and her eyelids were pale violet and lay heavy on her cheek.
I have given the necessary orders for the Troops to disembark tomorrow and encamp just above the Falls, from which place they shall be forwarded with all possible expedition to the place of their destination, but am much afraid the want of small craft will greatly prevent their dispatch. I have the honor to be sir, Your most obedient, humble servant, RICHARD HEWLETT, Lt. Col.
But to Jacqueline the insult conveyed no meaning, and Leroux continued in more moderate tones. "Come, madame, why do you not play fair with me?" he asked. "Who is that man Hewlett, and why did he accompany you so far toward your château? Before God, I know your husband and he have been plotting with Tom Carson against me, but why he should thus place himself in my power I cannot understand."
"Forgive me, Jacqueline, for I have brought heavy trouble upon you. But with God's aid I am going to save you both your father and you and take you away somewhere where all the past can be forgotten." She sighed heavily, and I felt a tear drop on my hand. "Jacqueline!" I cried. "Ah, M. Hewlett" the weariness of her voice went to my heart "it might have been different if " "If what, Jacqueline?"
At the first turn, however, Prescott's adherents -and they were many this afternoon -felt a thrill of disappointment. Walter Hewlett, whose skating had been strong and steady so far, passed Dick at the turn. "Hardly fair, after all," murmured several. "Of course, after what he's been through, no matter how much nerve Prescott may have, he can't be anything like up to his usual form."
"Now you know all, monsieur, for I remember nothing more until I found myself travelling back with M. Hewlett in the sleigh. You say I was in New York. Well, I do not remember it. "And as for Louis d'Epernay, I know nothing of him but I will die before he claims me as his wife!"
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