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Glasgow, Ellen Anderson Gholson, 1873-1945

"The Miller Of Old Church"

He was feeling strongly that, having conducted himself
in so honourable a manner there was nothing more to be expected of him;
while she assured her heart that when his love had proved capable of so
gallant a sacrifice, it had established the fact of its immortality. The
truth was that the fire still burned, though the obstacles, which had
supplied fuel to the flames, were consumed, and a pleasant warmth rather
than a destroying blaze was the result. Had Gay sounded the depths of
his nature, which he seldom did, he would have discovered that for him
passion was a kind of restlessness translated into emotion. When the
restlessness was appeased, the desire in which it had revealed itself
slowly evaporated.
"How is your mother?" was Blossom's first eager question, "oh, I do hope
she is better!"
"Better, yes, but we're still awfully anxious, the least shock may kill
her--Aunt Kesiah and I are walking on pins and needles. How are you,
Beauty? Did you enjoy your visit?"
He kissed her lips, and she clung to him with the first expression of
weakness she had ever shown.
"How could I when it ended like that?"
"Well, you're married anyway--that ought to satisfy you.


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