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Fox, John, 1863-1919

"The Trail of the Lonesome Pine"

A strange
spirit pervaded the Cove and the very air throbbed with
premonitions. What was the matter with everything--what was the
matter with her? She knew that she was lonely and that she wanted
Hale--but what else was it? She shivered--and not alone from the
chill night-air--and puzzled and wondering and stricken at heart,
she crept back to bed.


XVIII

Pausing at the Pine to let his big black horse blow a while, Hale
mounted and rode slowly down the green-and-gold gloom of the
ravine. In his pocket was a quaint little letter from June to
"John Hail"; thanking him for the beautiful garden, saying she was
lonely, and wanting him to come soon. From the low flank of the
mountain he stopped, looking down on the cabin in Lonesome Cove.
It was a dreaming summer day. Trees, air, blue sky and white cloud
were all in a dream, and even the smoke lazing from the chimney
seemed drifting away like the spirit of something human that cared
little whither it might be borne. Something crimson emerged from
the door and stopped in indecision on the steps of the porch. It
moved again, stopped at the corner of the house, and then, moving
on with a purpose, stopped once more and began to flicker slowly
to and fro like a flame.


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