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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Love under Fire"

I am a Rebel, but that has no serious weight
now. You are not a spy; if you have acted as one, it has been more
through my fault than your own. Besides you are my prisoner, and if I
should permit you to fall into the hands of those men, to be condemned
to death, the memory would haunt me forever. I am not that kind,
Lieutenant Galesworth. I don't want your gratitude; I would rather fight
you than help you. I want you to understand this first of all."
"I do, Miss Hardy; you simply perform a duty."
"Yes; I--I keep my word."
"But, after all, isn't it a little easier because--you like me?"
She drew in her breath so quickly it was almost a sob, the swift,
unexpected question disarming her in an instant. It was no longer the
tiger cat, but the woman who gasped out a surprised response.
"No; oh, no! that is what makes it harder."
"Harder to aid me?"
"To see you unjustly condemned, and--and to realize that perhaps I am
disloyal to my country."
Something about these simple words of confession, wrung from her lips by
my insistence, held me silent. I failed to realize then the full
significance of this acknowledgment, and she gave me no opportunity.
"This is ungenerous," she broke in quickly. "I do feel friendly toward
you; surely I need not be ashamed of this, even though our interests are
unlike, our causes opposed.


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