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"Why, that house has windows," cried Dotty. "I don't see what people want of windows when they can't see." "Nor me needer," echoed Katie. "What um wants winners, can't see out of?" They went up a flight of stone steps, and were met at the door by a blind waiting-girl, who ushered them into the visitors' parlor. "Is she blind-eyed?" whispered Flyaway, gazing at her earnestly.
The highwayman first broke the silence. "As I was a-sayin'," he remarked, in his ordinary tone, "we've got to look out for new holes, where the scent isn't so strong as about these. What do you think o' th' Octorara?" "Where?" she asked. Her voice was hoarse and strange, but he took no notice of it, gazing steadily into the fire as he puffed out a huge cloud of smoke.
The Morthwyrtha stood erect and stately, still gazing on the pale blue flame that rose from the burial stone, still slowly the flame waned and paled, and at last died with a sudden flicker, leaving the grey tomb standing forth all weatherworn and desolate, while a wind rose from the north and sighed through the roofless columns.
The boy was lying on his bed as they entered, gazing wistfully out at the little window which opened from the side of it like the port-lights or bull's-eyes of a ship's berth. His young nurse sat beside him with the Bounty Bible open on her knees. She shut it and rose as the strangers entered. The poor invalid was too weak to take much interest in them.
As Sebastian lay there, a marble figure, with his keen eyes closed and his pinched, thin face whiter and serener than ever, I could not help gazing at him with some pangs of recollection. I could not avoid recalling the time when his very name was to me a word of power, and when the thought of him roused on my cheek a red flush of enthusiasm.
Through the glazed housing I could see him standing, hands in pockets, legs wide, gazing out in the simple confidence that all was well, and enjoying the tumult and excitement of it all in his boyish ignorance. "He don't know!" grinned Peterson to me, and I only nodded in silence. "Where are we, Peterson?" I asked, putting a finger on the wet chart before us. "I don't know," replied the old man.
He turned, and motioning to Moritz not to follow him, almost flew down the stairs into the street. Drawing a long breath, he stood leaning against the door, gazing at the crowd at the busy passers-by some merrily chatting with their companions, others with earnest mien and in busy haste. No one seemed to care for him, no one looked at him.
He did not stay there long, but in sheer unhappiness got up, and, taking his candle, roamed about the room, fingering things, and gazing in the mirror at his face, which seemed to him repulsive in its wretchedness.
Only a few soldiers stood in the square, looking up at a drift of white cloud behind which they averred a Taube had just slipped out of sight. Cassel was evidently used to Taubes, and I had the sense of having overdone my excitement and not being exactly in tune; so after gazing a moment at the white cloud I slunk back into the hotel, barred the door and mounted to my room.
The man moved into the light and stood gazing towards them absent-mindedly, as if thinking of something. Walters noticed his white hair and thin face, the keenness of his blue eyes, the firmness of his mouth, and the erectness of his figure. "That is Colonel Challoner," Mrs. Chudleigh replied. "Ah!" said Walters; "I thought I recognized the stamp.
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