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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Clarence"


I suppose that was a blind for us! I remember the first day he saw her;
he was regularly keen to know all about her."
Major Curtis gave a short laugh.
"That mulatto, Martin, was a white woman, burnt-corked! She was trying
to get through the lines last night, and fell off a wall or got a knock
on the head from a sentry's carbine. When she was brought in, Doctor
Simmons set to washing the blood off her face; the cork came off and the
whole thing came out. Brant hushed it up--and the woman, too--in his own
quarters! It's supposed now that she got away somehow in the rush!"
"It goes further back than that, gentlemen," said the adjutant
authoritatively. "They say his wife was a howling secessionist, four
years ago, in California, was mixed up in a conspiracy, and he had to
leave on account of it. Look how thick he and that Miss Faulkner became,
before he helped HER off!"
"That's your jealousy, Tommy; she knew he was, by all odds, the biggest
man here, and a good deal more, too, and you had no show!"
In the laugh that followed, it would seem that Brant's eulogy had been
spoken and forgotten. But as Lieutenant Martin was turning away, a
lingering corporal touched his cap.
"You were speaking of those prowling mulattoes, sir.


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