Sometimes he had laid
hold of the drowning girl and was struggling with her to the surface.
Sometimes he was drawing her in an agony from the swallowing gullet of
a quicksand, which held her fast, and swallowed at her all the time
that he fought to rescue her from its jawless throat.
Annie took her turn in the sick chamber, watching beside the
half-unconscious lad, and listening anxiously to the murmurs that broke
through the veil of his dreams. The feeling with which she had received
the prodigal home into her heart, spread its roots deeper and wider,
and bore at length a flower of a pale-rosy flush???-Annie's love revealed
to herself???-strong although pale, delicate although strong. It seemed
to the girl she had loved him so always, only she had not thought about
it. He had fought for her and endured for her at school; he had saved
her life from the greedy waters of the Glamour at the risk of his own:
she would be the most ungrateful of girls if she did not love him.???-And
she did love him with a quiet intensity peculiar to her nature.
Never had she happier hours than those in which it seemed that only the
stars and the angels were awake besides herself.
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