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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"The Seaboard Parish Volume 3"

The storm had raved out its
business, and was departing into the past.
"Agnes," I said.
"Yes, sir," she answered, and looked up as if waiting for a command. There
was no colour in her cheeks or in her lips--at least it seemed so in the
moonlight--only in her eyes. But she was perfectly calm. She was leaning
against the low wall, with her hands clasped, but hanging quietly down
before her.
"The storm is breaking-up, Agnes," I said.
"Yes, sir," she answered in the same still tone. Then, after just a
moment's pause, she spoke out of her heart.
"Joe's at his duty, sir?"
I have given the utterance a point of interrogation; whether she meant that
point I am not quite sure.
"Indubitably," I returned. "I have such faith in Joe, that I should be sure
of that in any case. At all events, he's not taking care of his own life.
And if one is to go wrong, I would ten thousand times rather err on that
side. But I am sure Joe has been doing right, and nothing else."
"Then there's nothing to be said, sir, is there?" she returned, with a sigh
that sounded as of relief.


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