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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"A Ward of the Golden Gate"

"One would think you had created
it. You almost make me regret to lose it."
He stopped. He felt that the last sentence had saved him. "It is
of that I want to speak," he broke out suddenly and almost rudely.
"Are you satisfied that it means nothing, and can mean nothing, to
you? Does it awaken no memory in your mind--recall nothing you
care to know? Think! I beg you, I implore you to be frank with
me!"
She looked at him with surprise.
"I have told you already that my present name must be some absurd
blunder, or some intentional concealment. But why do you want to
know NOW?" she continued, adding her faint smile to the emphasis.
"To help you!" he said, eagerly. "For that alone! To do all I can
to assist you, if you really believe, and want to believe, that you
have another. To ask you to confide in me; to tell me all you have
been told, all that you know, think you know, or WANT to know about
your relationship to the Arguellos--or to--any one. And then to
devote myself entirely to proving what you shall say is your
desire. You see, I am frank with you, Yerba. I only ask you to be
as frank with me; to let me know your doubts, that I may counsel
you; your fears, that I may give you courage.


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