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Crawford, F. Marion (Francis Marion), 1854-1909

"The Heart of Rome"


She sat down in her old place, and gathered her skirt to her feet and
watched him as he climbed out and the last rays of light disappeared.
Then the pounding at the wall began again, far off, and she tried to
count the strokes, as she had done before; but she wished him back,
and whether she felt cold or not, she wished herself again quietly
folded in his arms, and though she was alone and it was quite dark she
blushed at the thought. It seemed to her that the blows were struck in
quicker succession now than before. Was he willing to tire himself out
a little sooner, so as to earn the right to come back to her?
That was not it. He was growing desperate, and could not control the
speed of his hands so perfectly as before. The night was advancing, he
knew, though he had not looked at the watch, which was still in
Sabina's glove. It was growing late, and he could distinguish no sound
but that of the blows he struck at the bricks and the steady roar of
the water. The conviction grew on him that Masin was drowned, and
perhaps old Sassi too, and that their bodies lay at the bottom of the
outer chamber, between the well and the wall of the cellar. If Masin
had been able to get into the well, before the water was too high, he
would have risen with it, for he was a good swimmer.
So was Malipieri, and more than once he thought of making an attempt
to reach the widened slit in the wall by diving.


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