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As he drove away something like warm tears misted across my eyes as I looked back and saw all the goodwill and friendliness in the eye of the farmer friends who watched our departure.
There should have been wailing and weeping and cursing and praying, for handsome Jerry Strann was dead. Or there might have been utter and dreadful silence and waiting for the stroke of vengeance, for the brightest eye was misted and the strongest hand was unnerved and the voice that had made them tremble was gone. But there was neither silence nor weeping.
He paused again, for another long inhalation, and Kate Cumberland, staring in fearful suspense, waiting for the instant when Buck should at last turn and when the shots should explode, saw that the yellow glow was now somewhat misted in the eyes of Barry. He frowned, as one bewildered. "Think of her, Dan!" went on Buck Daniels.
Whether he liked it or not, once he had chosen his road, he followed it straight before him; and the same causes that had made him accept absolutely the views of those around him, drove him to cast off every consideration now that he had begun to see the falsehoods which had deceived him. If he had been less misted, he would not have unmasked them.
Then they misted suddenly as she looked at the girls. "It's jest like dad said," she murmured. "We wouldn't 'a' had nothin' ef it hadn't been fer you girls. You don't know how we feel about you, 'cause we jest never could tell you." The days that followed seemed like a beautiful fairy tale to the happy girls.
Laughing as she looked at him, she did not disguise the fact that tears misted her lashes. Warren Gregory felt himself stirred as he had not been before in his life. "Well," he said, with an unsteady laugh, "you could be anything! With you for his wife, what couldn't a man do!" Hardly conscious of what he did or said, he got to his feet, and she stood, too, smiling up at him.
He drew her closer to him if that were possible and sealed his words with a kiss. But he could not realise his happiness then, or afterward, when he walked the streets under the thinly misted moon of that Indian summer night.
He took her face between his hands, and stared into her misted eyes, but then his glance wandered past her, through the window, out to the shadowy hills. "You won't leave me now?" she pleaded. "I must!" "Give me one hour more!" "Look!" he said, and pointed.
Triumph here on the very verge of defeat! It misted his eyes. Joy gave wings to his thoughts. He was the master of the valley. "But you'll think before you do anything, Elizabeth?" "I've done my thinking already twenty-four years of it. I'm going to do what I promised I'd do." "And that?" "You'll see and hear in time. What's yonder?" The men were rising, one after another, and bunching together.
What were even the building-block towers of the Metropolitan and Singer buildings and the Times's cream-stick compared with some old shrine in a cathedral close that was misted with centuries! All this he felt and hummed to himself, though not in words. He had never heard of Arcady, though for many years he had been a citizen of that demesne. The ferryboat was entering her slip. Mr.
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