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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"The Crusade of the Excelsior"

Is that it?"
"Hear me," said Hurlstone passionately. "You have saved me from madness
and, perhaps, death. Your care--your kindness--your teachings have given
me life again. Don't blame me, Father Esteban, if, in casting off my old
self, you have given me hopes of a new and fresher life--of"--
"A newer and fresher love, you would say," said the Padre, with a sad
smile. "Be it so. You will at least do justice to the old priest, when
you remember that he never pressed you to take vows that would have
prevented this forever."
"I know it," said Hurlstone, taking the old man's hand. "And you will
remember, too, that I was happy and contented before this came upon me.
Tell me what I shall do. Be my guide--my friend, Father Esteban. Put me
where I was a few months ago--before I learned to love her."
"Do you mean it, Diego?" said the old man, grasping his hand tightly,
and fixing his eyes upon him.
"I do."
"Then listen to me, for it is my turn to speak. When, eight months ago,
you sought the shelter of that blessed roof, it was for refuge from a
woman that had cursed your life. It was given you. You would leave it
now to commit an act that would bring another woman, as mad as yourself,
clamoring at its doors for protection from YOU.


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