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Welsh, James C.

"The Underworld The Story of Robert Sinclair, Miner"


After all, Mysie must have made an appointment with this man. She
evidently wanted him, and that was her reason for asking to be left
alone.
"Oh, God!" he groaned again, sitting down. "This is hellish!" and he
began to turn over the whole business in his mind once more.
Long he sat, and the darkness fell over the moor, matching the darkness
that brooded over his heart and mind. He heard the moor-birds crying in
restlessness, and saw the clouds piling themselves up, and come creeping
darkly over the higher ground, bringing a threat of rain in their wake.
The moan in the wind became louder, presaging a storm; but still he sat
or lay upon the rough, withered grass, fighting out his battle, meeting
the demons of despair and gloom, and the legions of pain and misery, in
greater armies than ever he had met them before.
Again he groaned, as his ear caught the plaintive note of a widowed
partridge, which sat behind him upon a grassy knoll of turf, crying out
on the night air, an ache in every cry, the grief and sorrow of his
wounded, breaking heart.
It seemed to Robert that there was a strange sort of kinship between him
and the bird--a kinship and understanding which touched a chord of ready
feeling in his heart.


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