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The Scourge of God

CHAPTER III. A PARTING SOUL

Word Count: 2787    |    Released on: 17/11/2017

hen they had been the head of the house--Martin Ashurst told himself how, except for the reason that he was about to l

ery wrinkle that time had brought to her face, changing back that face to the soft, innocent one which, in the spring of life, had been Aurora Ashurst's greatest charm; the face that had been hers when, as a winsome child, she played in the meadows round her father's old home in Worcestersh

hat were still so bright--the last awful glazed look and vacant stare, which tell of the near end be

me to me a little earlier than it does sometimes. That is all. But, Martin, we have no time to talk of this. Time is short--I kno

ding a little nearer to her, "you are a saint. You would not part from me without giving me that. The

done so I know not if you will still deem me a saint, still desire m

ss, and the dying, when they speak at all, speak wanderingly, he neither showed nor felt wonderment at her words. Instead, becau

r you--make me desire your blessing less or deem you less a saint. Yet--yet--if it pleases you

from far down the room he heard the ticking of the clock, heard the logs fall softly together with a

u now will make me accursed in the eyes of all the Church--our Church. I am about to confide to you a secret that

reveal? Ah! yes, she was indeed wandering! Yet, even as he thought this, he reflected how strange a thing it was that, while he had actually a revelation to mak

ard her speakin

r, man or woman, of the de Rochebazon name. It

A de Rochebazon in existence! Are you conscious of what you are saying?" and he leaned a

ng here, as that you, Martin A

has what you state been

became Henri de Beauvillier'

mean? A de Rochebazo

an

nd this man, therefore, is, has been since the d

uietly, calmly, as though speaking on the most tr

edside to his knee, where it lay, while he, his eyes fixed full on her now and still seeking to read in her face

that I must utter the

the pri

dible. Beyon

is t

e predominated one--the thought that this was the derangement of a mind unhinged by the weakness of approaching death, clouded by the gradual decay of nature. And, think

h with a determination to force him to bel

ho know it--only th

ers!

as to neither her of Orleans nor any of the daughters of the house of France--"so, too,

t recognising that his voice was lowered instin

at she--De Maintenon--hold

ng--he

ave

now the shadows of evening were drawing on, soon the night would be at hand--a silence caused by

ce, or--never. For the dying woman made no further effort to divulge more, or to explain aught which should elucidate the strange statement she had startled him with; in

mentioned--this woman who is the king's wife; the king himself; La Chaise, who, if all accounts are true, is a lying, crafty pr

, of the whitest and most costly nature, and his face as white as that lace itself. And the girl, advancing down the room, followed by the

hat was now no better than twilight, but going through, as the other observed, none of the usual ceremonies of feeling the

?" the young man asked, fol

agon in return, "d

be expected. Also that she may be able to speak again and clearly. I

eur, if he will pardon me, phrases his statement strangely, in spite of his having the French extremely well. 'Was to be her

, "he would be very glad if he could know that some hours of life will still be grante

or three more hours. I doubt her ever speaking again. There is no more to be done. S

for Fagon had not been gone a quarter of an hour, during which time she lay so motionless in her bed that more than once he gazed down upon her, wondering if already the soul had parted from the body, before the mon

his request to him. "Depart, my son! Alas! do you not know that the end is near--that

woman; if she recovers her intelligence even at the last moment we have much to say to one another. I beg you, therefore, to leave us to

and support of the Rochebazons, also because in his ignorance he thought he stood in the presence of him who was, he imagined in his simplicity, the ne

e kinsman and kinswoma

been brought into the chamber by Manon and placed near the great bed. "I pray God she may." Then murmured to himself: "As well as I can see--'tis but darkly, Heaven knows--yet so far as I

upant of the bed by which he sat stirred; her eyes, he saw, were fixed on him; a moment later

her words, "Henri was not the eldest. There was

; then spoke more loudly: "Yes, yes, oh, speak, speak! Conti

muttered raucously, "a Huguenot! And fierce--relentless--strong,

glazing now, surely this dull glare at vacancy which expressed indefinitely tha

else all effort must fail. His name--that which his brother called him--that which he to

through white lips, in accents too low

Moreover, at this supreme moment the

nuation, dry and brown as a mummy, with eyes that burned like coals beneath an eyebrowless forehe

h suggests so deep an oblivion, of the last word we would have them speak, the last question we w

s, yet, by her own avowal, was none, did in truth know what her kinsman sought to drag

he small night lamp cast its sickly shadow, the hand which Martin Ashurst held closed tighter upon his own, and with a qui

er quivered warm and damp within it, the priest knelt and,

ype="

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