Well, then, good-by, dear. In Africa, or here, I shall
always love you; and many a salt tear I shall shed for you yet, many a
one I have, as well you know. God bless you. Pray for poor Phoebe, that
goes against her will to Africa, and leaves her heart with thee."
This was too much even for the selfish Reginald. He kneeled at her
knees, and took her hand, and kissed it, and actually shed a tear or two
over it.
She could not speak. He had no hope of changing her resolution; and
presently he heard Dick's voice outside, so he got up to avoid him.
"I'll come again in the morning, before you go."
"Oh, no! no!" she gasped. "Unless you want me to die at your feet. I am
almost dead now."
Reginald slipped out by the kitchen.
Dick came in, and found his sister leaning with her head back against
the wall. "Why, Phoebe," said he, "whatever is the matter?" and he took
her by the shoulder.
She moaned, and he felt her all limp and powerless.
"What is it, lass? Whatever is the matter? Is it about going away?"
She would not speak for a long time.
When she did speak, it was to say something for which my male reader may
not be prepared. But it will not surprise the women.
"O Dick--forgive me!"
"Why, what for?"
"Forgive me, or else kill me: I don't care which.
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