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Updated: June 1, 2025
"I'm sorry you were there.... What a beastly spectacle for you!" "Never mind me," she murmured. "I'm all right now!... But, oh! She broke off eloquently. "Was it you who had the cowboys pull me off him? Jake said, as he broke me loose, 'For Miss Lenore's sake!" "It was dad who sent them. But I begged him to."
He was not surprised at Frau Lenore's standing up for commerce he had expected that; but Gemma too shared her opinion. 'If one's an artist, and especially a singer, she declared with a vigorous downward sweep of her hand, 'one's got to be first-rate!
A wild vision of Lenore's spectral bridegroom presented itself to her overwrought imagination, and she shrieked in genuine terror, and shrank trembling against the hedge. The rider of the horse dismounted, and slipping his wrist through the bridle, came towards her. "What's the matter?" he asked. "Are you hurt? Why, great Scott! It's never Carmel!" "Everard!
And when the sun sent its last ruddy and gold rays over the western hills, and the weary harvesters plodded homeward, Lenore still lingered, loath to break the spell. For on the way home, she divined, he would tell her he was soon to leave. Sunset and evening star! Their beauty and serenity pervaded Lenore's soul. Surely there was a life somewhere else, beyond in that infinite space.
The harass of these last few weeks, especially the endeavour to make her go to the races, had removed all scruples from Lenore's mind as to leaving her home in ignorance of her intentions.
There was not a boy in the outfit who could beat him to a stuffed bag of a German soldier! And he sure could make some job with that old bayonet! So ran Jim's message to the loved ones at home. Then a strange pride replaced the quake in Lenore's heart. Not now would she have had Jim stay home. She had sacrificed him. Something subtler than thought told her she would never see him again.
Striding to the wall he tore the sword down, drew it and, with raised arm, sprang towards the cobra. A good "Cut Three" across the coils would carve it into a dozen pieces. No. Lenore made that cushion and Lenore's cushion made more appeal to Colonel de Warrenne than did Lenore's son. No.
He held up his hands in utter futility of expression. Lenore's quick eyes noted his face had grown thin and haggard, and she made sure with a pang that his hair was whiter. "I'm sure glad to be home," he said, with a heavy expulsion of breath. "I want to clean up an' have a bite to eat."
She would work to the limit of her endurance. It was an autumn twilight, with a cool wind, gray sky, and sad, barren slopes. The fertile valley seemed half obscured in melancholy haze, and over toward the dim hills beyond night had already fallen. No stars, no moon, no afterglow of sunset illumined the grayness that in this hour seemed prophetic of Lenore's future. "'Safe! he said.
"Lenore," began Anderson, slowly his tone was stronger, vibrant with feeling "you love this young Dorn!" A tumultuous shock shifted Lenore's emotions. She quivered as before, but this was a long, shuddering thrill shot over her by that spoken affirmation.
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