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Southworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte, 1819-1899

"The Missing Bride"

I forgot my dying relative--forgot everything, but
that my wife lay wounded and exposed on the beach. I sprung upon
horseback, and galloped with all possible haste to the spot. By the time
I had got there the storm had reached its height, and the beach was
completely covered with the boiling waves. My Marian had been carried
away. I spent the wretched night in wandering up and down the bluff
above the beach, and calling on her name. In the morning I returned home
to find my grandfather dead, and the family and physicians wondering at
my strange absence at such a time. That, Miriam, is the story."
Miriam made no comment whatever. Mr. Willcoxen seemed surprised and
grieved at her silence.
"What have you now to say, Miriam?"
"Nothing."
"'Nothing?' What do you think of my explanation?"
"I think nothing. My mind is in an agony of doubt and conjecture. I must
be governed by stern facts--not by my own prepossessions. I must act
upon the evidences in my possession--not upon your explanation of them,"
said Miriam, distractedly, as she arose to leave the room.
"And you will denounce me, Miriam?"
"It is my insupportable duty! it is my fate! my doom! for it will kill
me!"
"Yet you will do it!"
"I will.


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