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'Not across the fields, said Midmore at the stile. 'Come round by by your own place. She flushed indignantly. 'It will be yours in a little time, he went on, shaken with his own audacity. 'Not so much of your little times, if you please! She shied like a colt across the road; then instantly, like a colt, her eyes lit with new curiosity as she came in sight of the drive-gates.
He seemed as high as an ordinary spire steeple, and took about ten yards at each step. I ran to hide myself in the corn, whence I saw him at the stile calling out in a voice which at first I certainly took for thunder. Seven monsters like himself then came, and began to reap the field where I lay.
You stile your selves our brethren, & yet you will not give us what those that are not our brethren will give. Accept our presents, or wee will come see you no more, but will goe unto others."
Two others followed, holding Finlay, gagged and bound, by the arms. Donald Ward, his sword drawn, brought up the rear. They moved like shadows, silent as the prowling body-snatchers of whom Donald had spoken. In front of them, a dark mass in the June twilight, stood the church, and round it rows and rows of gravestones. Moylin crossed the stile. Finlay sank helplessly in a heap in front of it.
She sat down on the step of a stile, and sighed with relief at the ease it gave her foot. Then, far off she heard the sharp miniature sound, very neat and staccato, of a horse galloping. She held her breath to hear if it would turn down a by-road, but it came on. It came on, and grew in volume and in meaning, became almost ominous in the frozen silence.
So, she jilts me, and I get a pistol, or I get a neat bit of rope, or I take a clean header with a cannon-ball at my heels, or I go to the chemist's and ask for stuff to poison rats, anything a fool'd do under the circumstances, it don't matter what." Old Anthony waited for Rhoda to jump over a stile, and said to her, "He laughs at the whole lot of ye." "Who?" she asked, with betraying cheeks.
Because they would never then be distracted by discovering their idol was second-hand. She looked down and sighed; and they passed out of the crumbling old place, and slowly crossed to the churchyard entrance. Knight was not himself, and he could not pretend to be. She had not told all. He supported her lightly over the stile, and was practically as attentive as a lover could be.
He came to himself with a start and raised his head to scan the stile. The darkness had thickened but the two posts at the ends of the fence were still outlined. He watched and waited. After a long time the east began to lighten; a deepening glow rimmed West Hill, picking out in silver the trees along its edge.
Then her thoughts flew back to the churchyard stile where they had paused in their gathering of Christmas greens one winter day. For an instant she seemed to see the handsome boy looking down at her, begging a token of the Princess Winsome, and saying, in a low tone, "I'll be whatever you want me to be, Lloyd." Juliet's voice broke in on her reverie. "Miss Sherman, allow me to present Miss Minor."
You knaw that as well as my tongue and heart can tell 'ee. Look at me ... don't 'ee knaw it, Phoebe? Don't 'ee?" She turned her head this way and that to avoid his insistence, but at last she yielded as on that night long ago beside the stile and met look and lips.
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