The Eye of Dread. Payne Erskine

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The Eye of Dread - Payne  Erskine

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rel="nofollow" href="#ulink_ff7e41ba-1449-5104-ac58-bda40b679cde">CHAPTER XXIV

       AMALIA’S FÊTE

       CHAPTER XXV

       HARRY KING LEAVES THE MOUNTAIN

       BOOK THREE

       CHAPTER XXVI

       THE LITTLE SCHOOL-TEACHER

       CHAPTER XXVII

       THE SWEDE’S TELEGRAM

       CHAPTER XXVIII

       “A RESEMBLANCE SOMEWHERE”

       CHAPTER XXIX

       THE ARREST

       CHAPTER XXX

       THE ARGUMENT

       CHAPTER XXXI

       ROBERT KATER’S SUCCESS

       CHAPTER XXXII

       THE PRISONER

       CHAPTER XXXIII

       HESTER CRAIGMILE RECEIVES HER LETTER

       CHAPTER XXXIV

       JEAN CRAIGMILE’S RETURN

       CHAPTER XXXV

       THE TRIAL

       CHAPTER XXXVI

       NELS NELSON’S TESTIMONY

       CHAPTER XXXVII

       THE STRANGER’S ARRIVAL

       CHAPTER XXXVIII

       BETTY BALLARD’S TESTIMONY

       CHAPTER XXXIX

       RECONCILIATION

       CHAPTER XL

       THE SAME BOY

       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

      Two whip-poor-wills were uttering their insistent note, hidden somewhere among the thick foliage of the maple and basswood trees that towered above the spring down behind the house where the Ballards lived. The sky in the west still glowed with amber light, and the crescent moon floated like a golden boat above the horizon’s edge. The day had been unusually warm, and the family were all gathered on the front porch in the dusk. The lamps within were unlighted, and the evening wind blew the white muslin curtains out and in through the opened windows. The porch was low,––only a step from the ground,––and the grass of the dooryard felt soft and cool to the bare feet of the children.

      In front and all around lay the garden––flowers and fruit quaintly intermingled. Down the long path to the gate, where three roads met, great bunches of peonies lifted white blossoms––luminously white in the moonlight; and on either side rows of currant bushes cast low, dark shadows, and here and there dwarf crab-apple trees tossed pale, scented flowers above them. In the dusky evening 2 light the iris flowers showed frail and iridescent against the dark shadows under the bushes.

      The children chattered quietly at their play, as if they felt a mystery around them, and small Betty was sure she saw fairies dancing on the iris flowers when the light breeze stirred them; but of this she said nothing, lest her practical older sister should drop a scornful word of unbelief, a thing Betty shrank from and instinctively avoided. Why should she be told there were no such things as fairies and goblins and pigwidgeons, when one might be at that very moment dancing at her elbow and hear it all?

      So Betty wagged her curly golden head, wise with the wisdom of childhood, and went her own ways and thought her own thoughts. As for the strange creatures of wondrous power that peopled the earth, and the sky, and the streams, she knew they were there. She could almost see them, could almost feel them and hear them, even though they were hidden from mortal sight.

      Did she not often

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