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Glasgow, Ellen Anderson Gholson, 1873-1945

"The Miller Of Old Church"

" It was such a little thing--only the eighth of a mile which
had decided her future. She might just as easily have turned aside if
she had only suspected. But life was like that--you never suspected
until things had happened, and the little decisions, made in the midst
of your ignorance, committed you to your destiny.
The horses came out of the wood, plodding over the sandy soil, which
marked the beginning of the open country. Across the fields toward
Bottom's Ordinary, scattered groups of people were walking in twos and
threes, showing like disfiguring patches in the midst of the golden
rod and the life-everlasting. Old Adam, hobbling up the path, while
the horses stopped to drink at the well, touched his hat as he steadied
himself with the aid of his big knotted stick.
"It's a fine sight to see you back among us," he said. "If you'd come a
couple of hours earlier you'd have been in time for the wedding?"
"What wedding?" asked Gay in a clear voice, but moved by some intuitive
knowledge of what the answer would be, he did not look at Molly.
"Why, Solomon Hatch's daughter, Judy, to be sure. She's just married
the miller.


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