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She could not help going over to him and laying a
comforting hand on his shoulder.
She ’d best not do that. He knew very well that when she
put her hand on him and said a few words quietly to
herself she could read the courage out of him, and he wouldn’t
let her. Anyhow, she might as well sit down by him, even
if he was nothing but a low peasant, seeing that he ’d be
dead before nightfall.
Marie sat down.
Sören looked at her sideways and moved a little
farther away on the bench. Now he s’posed he ’d better say
good-by and thank her ladyship for all her kindness in the
time they ’d known each other,and maybe she ’d say good-by
from him to his cousin Anne—the kitchen-maid at the
manor.
Marie held his hand fast.
Well, now he was going.
No, he must stay; there was no one in all the world
she loved like him.
Oh, that was just something she said because she was
afraid he ’d come back and haunt her, but she might make
herself easy on that score, for he didn’t bear any grudge
against her and would never come near her after he was
dead; that he ’d both promise and perform, if she would
only let him go.
No, she would never let him go.
Then if there was nothing else for it—Sören tore his
hand away, and ran out of the brew-house and across the
yard.
Marie was right on his heels, when he darted into the
menservants’ quarters, slammed the door after him, and set
his back against it.
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