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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The Flaming Forest"

Bonne nuit, M'sieu Carrigan!"
"Good night!" nodded David.
In the pale shadows he thought a mysterious light of gladness
illumined Black Roger's face before the door opened and closed,
leaving him alone again.


XXIV

With the going of Black Roger also went the oppressive loneliness
which had gripped Carrigan, and as he stood listening to the low
voices outside, the undeniable truth came to him that he did not
hate this man as he wanted to hate him. He was a murderer, and a
scoundrel in another way, but he felt irresistibly the impulse to
like him and to feel sorry for him. He made an effort to shake off
the feeling, but a small voice which he could not quiet persisted
in telling him that more than one good man had committed what the
law called murder, and that perhaps he didn't fully understand
what he had seen through the cabin window on the raft. And yet,
when unstirred by this impulse, he knew the evidence was damning.
But his loneliness was gone. With Audemard's visit had come an
unexpected thrill, the revival of an almost feverish anticipation,
the promise of impending things that stirred his blood as he
thought of them.


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