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Buck, Charles Neville, 1879-1930

"A Pagan of the Hills"


When he had vainly sought her about the farm, it occurred to him to go
to the ragged "buryin' ground" and though he found her there he did not
obtrude upon her solitary vigil.
For Alexander was abandoning herself to one of those wild and
nerve-wracking tempests of weeping that come occasionally in a lifetime
to those who weep little. She had thrown herself face-down on the
ground beneath which Aaron McGivins slept, with arms outflung as though
seeking to reach into the grave and embrace him. As she had been both
son and daughter to him, he had been, to her, both father and mother.
Spasmodically her hands clenched and unclenched, and her fingers dug
wildly into the earth.
Brent turned away and left her there and it was a full two hours later
before he met her and led her, passive enough now, to a place from
which they overlooked that river that, not long ago, they had ridden
together. Under his gently diplomatic prompting she found relief in
unbosoming herself.
"He war all I hed----" she rebelliously declared. "An' whilst he lived
thet war enough--but now I hain't got nothin' left.


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