Two weary years ... emptiness ... loneliness. I
have placed her in the Earl of Wyvelstoke's charge ... they start for
London at once ... leave England as soon as possible ... she is gone
... two years, Jerry ... two weary years ... desolation!"
"Peregrine," said he in hushed voice, "this was her great wish--to be
a lady for your sake. She's told me so many's the time ... an' I
caught her in tears over it once."
"I have sent her away, Jerry, for two years!"
"Peregrine," said he, "'t is a fine thing to be a gentleman, but 't is
a grand thing to be a man big enough an' brave enough to do such act
as this here. God bless ye, lad!"
"O Jerry--O Jerry, I love her so ... ! Yearn and hunger for her so
much ... it is a pain!"
"Aye, but 't is such pain as makes the strong stronger! 'Tis such love
as do be everlasting and reaches high as heaven--"
"Two years, Jerry! Two long, weary years to wait ... to yearn ... to
live through without her ... emptiness!"
"Ah, but you've done right, lad, you've done right. And then--what's
two years? Lord, they'll soon go! And her love for you'll be a-growin'
with every month--every day an' hour, lad, an' she'll come back t' ye
at last, only more beautiful, more wonderful an' more loving than ever
she was--"
"O Jerry," said I, grasping at him with sudden hands. "You don't think
... death ... you don't think she may die?"
"Die? What, Ann--s' strong an' full o' vig'rous life? Lord, not she,
lad, not she--never think it!"
"Or .
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