The Sword of Damocles: A Story of New York LifeGreen, Anna Katharine
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The Sword of Damocles: A Story of New York Life
Green, Anna Katharine
Detective and mystery stories; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction
“Miss Belinda,” said he, in the firm and steadfast way more in keeping
with his features than his agitated manner of a moment before, “I cannot
give it up. The injury it would do me is greater than the harm, which
one of Paula’s lofty nature would be apt to acquire in any atmosphere
into which she might chance to be introduced. She is not a child, Miss
Belinda, though we allude to her as such. The texture of those
principles which you have instilled into her breast, is of no such weak
material as to give way to the first petty breeze that blows. Paula’s
house will stand, while mine—”
He paused and gave way to a momentary struggle, but that over, he set
his lips firmly together and the last vestige of irresolution vanished.
Sitting down by her side, he turned his face upon her, and for the first
time she realized the power which with one exception he had always
exerted over the minds of others. “Miss Belinda,” said he, “I am going
to give you an evidence of my trust; I am going to leave with you the
responsibility of Paula’s future. She shall go with me, and learn, if
she can, to love me and mine, but she shall also be under obligations to
open her heart to you on all matters that concern her life and happiness
in my house, and the day you see any falling off in her pure and upright
spirit, you shall demand her return, and though it tears the heart from
my breast, I will yield her up without question or parley as I am a
gentleman and a Christian. Does that content you?”
“It certainly ought to, sir. No one could ask more, I am sure,” returned
the other in a voice somewhat unsteady for her.
“It is opening my house to the gaze of a stranger,” said he, “for I
desire you to command Paula to withhold nothing that seriously affects
her; but my confidence in you is unbounded and I am sure that whatever
you may learn in this way, will be held as sacred by you as though it
were buried in a tomb.”
“It certainly will, sir.”
“As for the dearer hope which I have mentioned, time and the condition
of things must decide for us. Meanwhile I shall strive to win a father’s
place in her heart, if only to build myself a refuge for the days that
are to come. You see I speak frankly, Miss Belinda; will you give me
some token that you are not altogether dissatisfied with the result of
this conversation?”
With the straightforward if somewhat blunt action that characterized all
her movements, she stretched out her hand, which he took with something
more than his usual high-bred courtesy. “With you at the wheel,” said
she, “I think I may trust my darling, even to the whirl and follies of
such a society as I know Ona loves. A man who can so command himself,
ought to be a safe guide to pioneer others.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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