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Welsh, James C.

"The Underworld The Story of Robert Sinclair, Miner"


The hot blood mounted to his face and raced through his frame, while
his heart thumped at the thought that now, in the quietness of the dell,
he would meet her and speak to her. He would speak calmly, and not
frighten her, as he had done on that former occasion; and he braced
himself to meet her.
Impatiently he waited, and then, as he saw her about to enter the grove,
he rose as unconcernedly as he could, trying hard to assume the air of
one who had met her by accident, and stepped on to the path when Mysie
was within ten yards or so of him.
The color left her face, and her limbs felt weak beneath her, as she
recognized him, and he was quick to note the change in her whole
appearance.
She was paler, he thought, and thinner, and the bloom of a few weeks ago
was gone. Her eyes were listless, and the soft, shy look had been
replaced by an averted shame-stricken one. She was plainly flurried by
the meeting, and looking about trying to find if there were not, even
yet, a way of evading it.
"It's a fine nicht, Mysie," he began, stammering and halting before her,
"though I think it is gaun to work to rain."
"Ay," she responded hurriedly, her agitation growing, as she was forced
to halt before him.


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