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Jackson, Helen Hunt, 1830-1885

"Ramona"

But now,
if he had gone so far as to even think of her in such a way, she
would have been, to his view, as far removed from him as was the
morning star beneath whose radiance he had that morning
watched, hoping for sight of her at her window. He did not,
however, go so far as to thus think of her. Even that would have
been impossible. He only knelt on the stones outside the chapel
door, mechanically repeating the prayers with the rest, waiting for
her to reappear. He had no doubt, now, that she was Senor Felipe's
wife; all the same he wished to kneel there till she came out, that
he might see her face again. His vista of purpose, fear, hope, had
narrowed now down to that,-- just one more sight of her. Ever so
civilized, he could hardly have worshipped a woman better. The
mass seemed to him endlessly long. Until near the last, he forgot to
sing; then, in the closing of the final hymn, he suddenly
remembered, and the clear deep-toned voice pealed out, as before,
like the undertone of a great sea-wave, sweeping along.
Ramona heard the first note, and felt again the same thrill.


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