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Updated: May 10, 2025
Even in its color it had retained the true barbarians' instinct for a good primary. Here were no melting-yellow mustard-fields, nor flame-lit poppied meadows, nor blue-bells lifting their baby-blue eyes out of the grain. All the land was green. Fields, meadows, forests, plains all were green, green, green. The features of the landscape had changed with this change in coloring.
The short, fat cyclist stared blankly for a moment, then with a helpful cry began to scrabble in the road-grit. Whereupon Bert and Edna also scrabbled in the road-grit. Other cyclists arrived, dismounted and stood about, and their flame-lit faces expressed satisfaction, interest, curiosity. "Wet sand," said the short, fat man, scrabbling terribly "wet sand." One joined him.
There was the look of an exile in her face, a weariness that dreamed, perhaps, of distant things. But now that she danced that fled, and the gleam of flame-lit steel was in her eyes. Tangled and vital impressions came to Domini as she watched. Now she saw Jael and the tent, and the nails driven into the temples of the sleeping warrior.
Dark figures flit to and fro, pausing from time to time to wipe the black sweat from their faces. The pale light fades, and the flame-lit night lies red upon the land. The flitting figures take strange shapes.
And as the great building quivered, gaped wide open, swayed and came thundering down in a vast pile of flame-lit ruin, whence a volcanic burst of fire, smoke and dust arose, they perished miserably, time-servers, cowards and self-seekers to the last. But Flint and Waldron still survived.
And the nostalgia, the doom of homecoming went through her veins like a drug. His eternal face, flame-lit now! The pulse and darkness of red fire from the furnace towers in the sky, lighting the desultory, industrial crowd on the wayside station, lit him and went out. Of course he did not see her. Flame-lit and unseeing!
With it came a sharper tang of smoke, and the widening light of day was fighting to hold its own against the deepening pall of flame-lit gloom advancing with the wind. There seemed to come a low and distant sound with that wind, so indistinct that to David's ears it was like a murmur a thousand miles away.
The burning wreck yet lighted the heavens, and the horrid scene at the very doorstep of our home of such a happy half-year. It is fifty years ago and some months since that rainy, bloody, flame-lit October night. And now this cold, wintery, blustering midnight, I the Bob Tregellin of my story sit writing this concluding chapter. There is a coal-fire glowing hot in the grate.
The word was passed along the line of sleeping men and one by one they dropped back into the deep-cut trench. The red fire danced and crackled only a few yards outside the flame-lit space came the dark forms of men creeping through the rough grass like snakes. The attack was a fiasco, the fighting was all over in ten minutes.
She stole to the open door and peeped out. There, in the half shadow of the flame-lit porch, she saw Berry Lawson stealing toward her. She almost screamed for joy. Stepping into the doorway she whispered, "Berry!" "Is dat you, 'Gena?" whispered that worthy, tiptoeing hastily forward and stepping into the shadow within the room. "How'd yer manage ter live t'rough dis yer night, 'Gena?
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