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Page 167

MISS AVENAL

I liked the best, for the woods no longer clung to the steep hill-sides, and the dale, broadening with its farms and green pastures, brought us back into the world of men. In the meadows by the river there were in springtime, so Miss Avenal said, millions of daffodils. They were flowerless now in August; it was the moors that held the colour. From Miss Avenal I learned to recognize the birds, the white-throated dipper, that darted out from the alder-roots, and the ponderous heavyeyed owls, that sulkily flapped from their resting-places in the hollow oaks. But more often our walks took us below the mill, where the vale was waterless, towards the church at Kildale, built by men of pagan England for the worship of their new God.
`I think of the church,' said Miss Avenal, `as the last outpost of the new religion, standing sentinel over the passes that lead to the hills. And the stream I picture as the friend of the old spirits that were driven by the priests into the fastnesses of the moor. It carries their secrets still; but lest the old sentry should discover them, it has made for itself a way underground.'
I had been at Kildale for a fortnight, when something went wrong. A feeling of lassitude such as I had never felt before stole over me. The longer walks made me weary. I slept as we lay in the fern in the daytime, slept even when Miss Avenal was talking to me; and in my dreams I heard her voice going before me, as it seemed, down long echoing corridors of black marble, or calling after me down gloomy avenues of tall clipped yews. But at night I could not sleep. It was I now who lay awake, gazing through the open window into the fir woods, listening to the cries of the nightjars or to the perpetual alarm of the corncrakes in the sun-warmed meadows up the dale. It was Miss Avenal who stole into my room on tiptoe with lighted candle, who held my hand, who smoothed my pillow. She seemed to grow stronger, to regain her hold on life with every day that passed. The sunlight sparkled in her eyes and shone back reflected from her hair. All day long she never left my side. She talked to me, telling me strange

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE I liked what is best, for what is woods no longer clung to what is steep hill-sides, and what is dale, broadening with its farms and green pastures, brought us back into what is world of men. In what is meadows by what is river there were in springtime, so Miss Avenal said, millions of daffodils. They were flowerless now in August; it was what is moors that held what is colour. From Miss Avenal I learned to recognize what is birds, what is white-throated dipper, that darted out from what is alder-roots, and what is ponderous heavyeyed owls, that sulkily flapped from their resting-places in what is hollow oaks. But more often our walks took us below what is mill, where what is vale was waterless, towards what is church at Kildale, built by men of fun England for what is worship of their new God. `I think of what is church,' said Miss Avenal, `as what is last outpost of what is new religion, standing sentinel over what is passes that lead to what is hills. And what is stream I picture as what is friend of what is old spirits that were driven by what is priests into what is fastnesses of what is moor. It carries their secrets still; but lest what is old sentry should discover them, it has made for itself a way underground.' I had been at Kildale for a fortnight, when something went wrong. A feeling of lassitude such as I had never felt before stole over me. what is longer walks made me weary. I slept as we lay in what is fern in what is daytime, slept even when Miss Avenal was talking to me; and in my dreams I heard her voice going before me, as it seemed, down long echoing corridors of black marble, or calling after me down gloomy avenues of tall clipped yews. But at night I could not sleep. It was I now who lay awake, gazing through what is open window into what is fir woods, listening to what is cries of what is nightjars or to what is perpetual alarm of what is corncrakes in what is sun-warmed meadows up what is dale. It was Miss Avenal who stole into my room on tiptoe with lighted candle, who held my hand, who smoothed my pillow. She seemed to grow stronger, to regain her hold on life with every day that passed. what is sunlight sparkled in her eyes and shone back reflected from her hair. All day long she never left my side. She talked to me, telling me strange where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Midnight Tales (1946) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 167 where is p align="center" where is strong MISS AVENAL where is p align="justify" I liked what is best, for what is woods no longer clung to what is steep hill-sides, and what is dale, broadening with its farms and green pastures, brought us back into what is world of men. In the meadows by what is river there were in springtime, so Miss Avenal said, millions of daffodils. They were flowerless now in August; it was what is moors that held what is colour. From Miss Avenal I learned to recognize what is birds, what is white-throated dipper, that darted out from the alder-roots, and what is ponderous heavyeyed owls, that sulkily flapped from their resting-places in what is hollow oaks. But more often our walks took us below what is mill, where what is vale was waterless, towards what is church at Kildale, built by men of fun England for what is worship of their new God. `I think of what is church,' said Miss Avenal, `as what is last outpost of what is new religion, standing sentinel over what is passes that lead to what is hills. And what is stream I picture as what is friend of what is old spirits that were driven by what is priests into what is fastnesses of what is moor. It carries their secrets still; but lest what is old sentry should discover them, it has made for itself a way underground.' I had been at Kildale for a fortnight, when something went wrong. A feeling of lassitude such as I had never felt before stole over me. what is longer walks made me weary. I slept as we lay in what is fern in what is daytime, slept even when Miss Avenal was talking to me; and in my dreams I heard her voice going before me, as it seemed, down long echoing corridors of black marble, or calling after me down gloomy avenues of tall clipped yews. But at night I could not sleep. It was I now who lay awake, gazing through what is open window into what is fir woods, listening to what is cries of what is nightjars or to what is perpetual alarm of what is corncrakes in what is sun-warmed meadows up what is dale. It was Miss Avenal who stole into my room on tiptoe with lighted candle, who held my hand, who smoothed my pillow. She seemed to grow stronger, to regain her hold on life with every day that passed. what is sunlight sparkled in her eyes and shone back reflected from her hair. All day long she never left my side. She talked to me, telling me strange where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Midnight Tales (1946) books

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