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Murfree, Mary Noailles, 1850-1922

"The Ordeal A Mountain Romance of Tennessee"

It really makes me apprehensive. It was not
prudent to entertain him, and certainly not at all necessary--it was
almost against his will, in fact."
"Well, well, he is gone now," returned Briscoe easily, lifting the lid of
the piano and beginning to play a favorite air. But she would not quit
the subject.
"While you three were at the stable I thought I heard a step on the
veranda--you need not laugh--Lillian heard it as well as I. Then, when
you were so long coming back, I went upstairs to get a little shawl to
send out to you to put over Archie as you came across the yard--the mists
are so dank--and I saw--I am _sure_ I saw--just for a minute--a light
flicker from the hotel across the ravine."
Briscoe, his hands crashing out involuntarily a discordant chord, looked
over his shoulder with widening eyes. "Why, Gladys, there is not a soul
in the hotel now!"
"That is why the light there seemed so strange."
"Besides, you know, you _couldn't_ have seen a light for the mists."
"The mists were shifting; they rose and then closed in again.


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