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قراءة كتاب The Wiving of Lance Cleaverage
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
The Wiving of Lance Cleaverage
By
Alice MacGowan
Author of
"Judith of the Cumberlands,"
"The Last Word," "Huldah,"
"Return," etc.
With Illustrations in Colour by
Robert Edwards
G. P. Putnam's Sons
New York and London
The Knickerbocker Press
1909
Copyright, 1909
ALICE MacGOWAN
The Knickerbocker Press, New York
To
Emma Bell Miles
who could without doubt have written
much better this story of her own home country
the book is affectionately inscribed
by
The Author
CONTENTS
| PAGE | |
| I. A Pair of Haggards | 1 |
| II. The Up-Sitting | 19 |
| III. The Burying | 39 |
| IV. A Dance and a Serenade | 50 |
| V. The Asking | 70 |
| VI. The Wedding | 88 |
| VII. Lance's Laurel | 104 |
| VIII. The Infare | 124 |
| IX. The Interloper | 140 |
| X. Poverty Pride | 154 |
| XI. "Long Sweetenin'" | 168 |
| XII. "What Shall He Have Who Killed the Deer?" | 185 |
| XIII. Broken Chords | 193 |
| XIV. Roxy Griever's Guest | 211 |
| XV. A Stubborn Heart | 223 |
| XVI. Lance Cleaverage's Son | 237 |
| XVII. The Coasts of the Island | 247 |
| XVIII. The Hegira | 266 |
| XIX. Callista Cleaverage Goes Home | 277 |
| XX. Drawn Blank | 293 |
| XXI. Flenton Hands | 300 |
| XXII. The Speech of the People | 309 |
| XXIII. Buck Fuson's Idea | 321 |
| XXIV. Silenced | 330 |
| XXV. The Flight | 340 |
| XXVI. Roxy Griever | 345 |
| XXVII. In Hiding | 357 |
| XXVIII. The Sheriff Scores | 371 |
| XXIX. The Island at Last | 377 |
ILLUSTRATIONS
| PAGE | |
| "I was just a-studyin' on the matter." | Frontispiece |
| "A face, passion-pale, was raised to him, and eager lips met his." | 66 |
| "You'll marry us now—or not at all." | 98 |
| "He placed the instrument in Ola's grasp." | 202 |
| "He gazed long at Callista's face on the pillow." | 246 |
| "He broke off, staring with open mouth." | 336 |
The Wiving of Lance Cleaverage
CHAPTER I.
A PAIR OF HAGGARDS.
NOON of summer in the highlands of Tennessee; the Cumberlands, robed in the mid-season's green, flashed here and there with banding and gemming of waters. The two Turkey Track Mountains, Big and Little, lying side by side and one running so evenly from the other that only the dweller upon them knew where to differentiate, basked in the full glow of a Sabbath morning radiance.
A young fellow of twenty-three, crossing the crown of a higher hill, tonsured years ago by the axe of some settler, but offering half way up its side resistance of undergrowth and saplings, paused a moment in the open to look down. Below him the first church bell had just rung in the little gray structure across the creek. Shining above the ocean of woods and the cabin homes that, like islets, dotted the forest at wide intervals, the Sabbath sun caught and lightened upon something bright, 2 swung upon the newcomer's back. Himself as yet unseen, he gazed down upon this his world, spread map-like below him. He could pick out everybody's home. Each one of those cabins wore to-day, from porch floors hollowed with much scouring to inner cupboard niche, an air of Sunday expectancy that lacked little of being sanctimonious. Only the house-mother remained in charge of each, preparing the Sunday company dinner with even more outlay of energy than the preceding six had required. The men had, by common consent, adjourned to spring, barn, the shelter of big trees in the yard; he caught glimpses of the young folks below him on the woods-paths, attired in their brightest frocks and shirts, and whatever finery they could command, sauntering by twos and threes toward preaching. His smiling, impersonal gaze was aware of Callista Gentry sitting on a rock above the spring, holding a sort of woodland state like a rustic