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قراءة كتاب Bylow Hill

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Bylow Hill

Bylow Hill

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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BYLOW HILL

By

GEORGE W. CABLE

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

By F.C. YOHN

 

Charles Scribner's Sons
New York

MCMII

 

 






CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

I. RUTH AND GODFREY

II. ISABEL

III. ARTHUR AND LEONARD

IV. AND BRING DOWN THE REMAINDER

V. SKY AND POOL

VI. IN THE PUBLIC EYE

VII. THE HOUR STRIKES

VIII. GIVE YOU FIVE MINUTES

IX. THE YOUNG YEAR SMILES

X. THE STORM REGATHERS

XI. HAS IT COME TO THIS?

XII. THE LANTERN QUENCHED

XIII. BABY

XIV. THE TALKATIVE LEONARD

XV. THE THIN ICE BREAKS

XVI. MUST GIVE YOU UP

XVII. SLEEP, OF A SORT

XVIII. MISSING

XIX. A DOUBLE STILL HUNT

XX. A DOUBLE RETURN

XXI. EVENING RED

XXII. MORNING GRAY

 

 






ILLUSTRATIONS

"Father," laughed the daughter, "isn't this rather youngish?" Frontispiece

Indeed it was clear that to go away would be unfair.

"Arthur Winslow, I give you five minutes."

"But to know every day and hour that I'm watched."

"I am waiting busily for her slayer."

"Arthur! Arthur! can't you speak?"

 

 






BYLOW HILL





I

RUTH AND GODFREY

The old street, keeping its New England Sabbath afternoon so decently under its majestic elms, was as goodly an example of its sort as the late seventies of the century just gone could show. It lay along a north-and-south ridge, between a number of aged and unsmiling cottages, fronting on cinder sidewalks, and alternating irregularly with about as many larger homesteads that sat back in their well-shaded gardens with kindlier dignity and not so grim a self-assertion. Behind, on the west, these gardens dropped swiftly out of sight to a hidden brook, from the farther shore of which rose the great wooded hill whose shelter from the bitter northwest had invited the old Puritan founders to choose the spot for their farming village of one street, with a Byington and a Winslow for their first town officers. In front, eastward, the land declined gently for a half mile or so, covered, by modern prosperity, with a small, stanch town, and bordered by a pretty river winding among meadows of hay and grain. At the northern end, instead of this gentle decline, was a precipitous cliff side, close to whose brow a wooden bench, that ran half-way round a vast sidewalk tree, commanded a view of the valley embracing nearly three-quarters of the compass.

In civilian's dress, and with only his sea-bronzed face and the polished air of a pivot gun to tell that he was of the navy, Lieutenant Godfrey Winslow was slowly crossing the rural way with Ruth Byington at

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