She was going to the mountains,
to the mountains--to meet what? Sometimes she clasped her hands and
prayed aloud in her fear and heart-ache and woe. Then she blessed the
many clamors of the train that had lacerated her tenderest fibres, for
they deadened the sound of her piteous plaints, and she was a proud woman
who would fain that none heard these heart-throbs of anguish but the
pitying God Himself.
She must have slept from time to time, she thought, for she was refreshed
and calmer when she looked forth from the window and beheld the
resplendent glories of the sunrise amidst the Great Smoky Mountains.
Vast, far-stretching, lofty, as impressive as the idea of eternity, as
awesome as the menace of doom, as silent as the unimagined purposes of
creation, they lifted their august summits. They showed a deep, restful
verdure in the foreground, and in more distant reaches assumed the
blandest enrichments of blue, fading and fading to mere illusions of
ranges, and finally dreaming away to the misty mirages of the horizon.
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