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Glasgow, Ellen Anderson Gholson, 1873-1945

"The Miller Of Old Church"

Perhaps he, also, had suffered because life
had driven him to do the things that he hated--perhaps he, also, had had
his secret chamber in which his spirit was crucified? With the thought
something in her heart, which was like a lump of ice, melted suddenly,
and she felt at peace. "Because I've lived," she said softly to herself,
"I can understand."
And on the opposite side of the bed, between the long white curtains,
Kesiah was thinking, "Because I've never lived, but have stood apart and
watched life, I can understand."
Turning away presently, Molly went to the door, where she stood waiting
until the elder woman joined her.
"Is Mr. Chamberlayne still with Aunt Angela?" she asked.
"Yes. He was on his way to visit her when Cephus met him near the
cross-roads." For an instant she paused to catch her breath, and then
added softly, "Angela is bearing it beautifully."
Stooping over, she picked up a few scattered rose leaves from the
threshold and dropped them into the empty basket before she followed
Molly down the hall of the west wing to the lattice door, which opened
on the side-garden. Here the rustling of dead leaves grew louder, and
faint scents of decay and mould were wafted through the evanescent
beauty of the Indian summer.


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