Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 11, 2025
And DeGolyer, removing the cloth and placing his hand on his friend's forehead, added: "Your fever isn't so high as it was yesterday. You are coming out all right." "No, I tell you that I'm going to die; and you won't do me the only favor I could ask. Don't you remember saying, not long ago, that a man's life is a pretense almost from the beginning to the end?"
He ran to DeGolyer, seized his hand, and leading him to Ellen, said: "I have caught you a prince. Take him." And DeGolyer, smiling sadly, replied, "I love her as a brother." She held out her hands to him. "I could never think of you as anything else," she said. "But you must not leave us," Mrs. Witherspoon declared, coming forward. "Yes, my mission here is ended."
"What jaunt?" the old man asked. "I am going to make a tour of the country," DeGolyer answered. "I'm going to visit nearly every community of interest and gather material for my letters, and shall be gone a month or so, I should think." "And I'm going with him," said Henry. "No," the old man replied, "you are not going to leave me here all that time alone. I'm old, and I want you near me."
In the commercial world a high place awaits you, and though I have done you a great wrong, I hope that your recollection of my deep love for you may soften your resentment and attune your young heart to the sweet melody of forgiveness. DeGolyer folded the paper, returned it to Henry and sat in silence. He looked at the smoking lamp and listened to the barking of the hungry dogs.
Hungry dogs barked in the dreary village. DeGolyer could see but a single light. It burned in the priest's house a dark age, and as of yore, with all the light held by the church. The weary man liberated his mule on a common, where its former companions were grazing, and sought the house of his friends. The house was dark and the doors were fastened.
He was not handsome, but his sad face was impressive, and his smile, a mere melancholy recognition that something had been said, did not soon fade from memory. One afternoon DeGolyer called at the office of a morning newspaper, and was told that the managing editor wanted to see him.
"Confound him, I'm getting sick of his peculiarities." The merchant sat down; DeGolyer stood on the hearth-rug. The time was come, and he had been strong, but now a shiver crept over him. "My friend told me a singular story to-day." "I don't doubt it; and if his stories are as singular as he is, they must he marvelous." "This story is marvelous, and I think it would interest you.
You must go there, not as Henry DeGolyer, but as Henry Witherspoon, their own son." "Merciful God! I can't do that." "But if you care for me you will. Take all my papers take everything I've got and go home. It will be the greatest favor you could do me and the greatest you could do them." "But, my dear boy, I should be a liar and a hypocrite."
"No; they'll steal my clothes!" he cried, in alarm. "No, they won't; they'll give you more clothes. You stay here, and I will bring you something when I come back." DeGolyer went to a hotel. Early the next morning George Witherspoon was pacing the sidewalk in front of his house when DeGolyer came up. The merchant was startled. "Why, where did you come from!" he exclaimed.
The nest day DeGolyer was on board a steamer bound for Punta Arenas. On the vessel he met a young man who said that his name was Henry Sawyer; and this young man was so blithe and light-hearted that DeGolyer, yielding to the persuasion of contrast, was drawn toward him. Young Sawyer was accompanied by his uncle, a short, fat, and at times a crusty old fellow.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking