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Southworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte, 1819-1899

"The Missing Bride"

Grimshaw remained away, the more excited she grew. She
skipped about like the very sprite of mischief, exclaiming to herself:
"Oh, shan't we have fun presently! Oh, shan't we, though! The Grim
maniac! he has gone to detect me! And he'll break in upon Thurston and
Marian's interview. Won't there be an explosion! Oh, Jupiter! Oh, Puck!
Oh, Mercury! What fun--what delicious fun! Wr-r-r-r! I can scarcely
contain myself! Begone, Maria! Vanish! I want all the space in this room
to myself! Oh, fun alive! What a row there'll be! Me-thinks I hear the
din of battle!
"Oh clanga a rang! a rang! clang! clash! Whoop!"
sang the elf, springing and dancing, and spinning, and whirling, around
and around the room in the very ecstasy of mischief. Her dance was
brought to a sudden and an awful close.
The hall door was thrown violently open, hurried and irregular steps
were heard approaching, the parlor door was pushed open, and Dr.
Grimshaw staggered forward and paused before her!
Yes; her frolic was brought to an eternal end. She saw at a glance that
something fatal, irreparable, had happened. There was blood upon his
hands and wrist-bands! Oh, more--far more! There was the unmistakable
mark of Cain upon his writhen brow! Before now she had seen him look
pale and wild and haggard, and had known neither fear nor pity for him.


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