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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"Beverly of Graustark"

There were no
stars, no moon. The ground below was black with shadows, but shimmering
in spots touched by the feeble park lamps. She retreated through her
window, determined to go to bed. Her rebellious brain, however, refused
to banish him from her thoughts. She wondered if he were patroling the
castle grounds In the rain, in all that lonely darkness. Seized by a
sudden inspiration, she threw a gossamer about her, grasped an umbrella
and ventured out upon the balcony once more. Guiltily she searched the
night through the fine drizzling rain; her ears listened eagerly for the
tread which was so well known to her.
At last he strode beneath a lamp not far away. He looked up, but, of
course, could not see her against the dark wall. For a long time he
stood motionless beneath the light. She could not help seeing that he
was dejected, tired, unhappy. His shoulders drooped, and there as a
general air of listlessness about the figure which had once been so full
of courage and of hope. The post light fell directly upon his face. It
was somber, despondent, strained. He wore the air of a prisoner. Her
heart went out to him like a flash. The debonair knight of the black
patch was no more; in his place there stood a sullen slave to
discipline.
"Baldos!" she called softly, her voice penetrating the dripping air with
the clearness of a bell.


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