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Page 168

MISS AVENAL

tales of her past life, that seemed, as I lay half-waking, halfsleeping in the heather or in the fern, to take me back to the very beginnings of the world.
I remember how on one brooding afternoon of thunder she led me through the fields towards Kildale Church. We stopped before we reached it, and, as we sat on a grass-covered knoll, looking towards the weather-stained tower that rose graceless and strong like the bastion of some border fortress, she sang to me a song whose words I still remember:

The valley has lost its memory;
The stream flows silent underground.
It has left the wind and the sun and the rain
To creep into the dark world again
With the secret of life that it has found.

For the stream has found the secret of life;
It has gathered its knowledge from the hills;
Of darkness and evil from the owls,
Of beauty and joy from the daffodils.

Its waters hold the memory
Of age and youth, of death and pleasure and pain.
It is creeping down to the starless world,
To the underworld of night again.

At last, when every day I felt that I was growing weaker, when every day I saw that she was growing stronger,.I wrote to Miss Simpson at Yorborough asking to be allowed to come away. Then it was that I realized that I should have written before, for she misunderstood my letter. In her answer to me she said that she had heard already from Miss Avenal, and that she had offered to keep me as her guest at Kildale until I was strong enough to travel. Miss Simpson advised me to accept the invitation. Yorborough, she said, was like an oven, and she envied me the quiet and the bracing air of the moors. How poorly my letter must have expressed my thoughts! I could have said nothing of what I had meant to say.
`And why should you go back?' Miss Avenal asked, when

travel books:
where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE tales of her past life, that seemed, as I lay half-waking, halfsleeping in what is heather or in what is fern, to take me back to what is very beginnings of what is world. I remember how on one brooding afternoon of thunder she led me through what is fields towards Kildale Church. We stopped before we reached it, and, as we sat on a grass-covered knoll, looking towards what is weather-stained tower that rose graceless and strong like what is bastion of some border fortress, she sang to me a song whose words I still remember: what is valley has lost its memory; what is stream flows silent underground. It has left what is wind and what is sun and what is rain To creep into what is dark world again With what is secret of life that it has found. For what is stream has found what is secret of life; It has gathered its knowledge from what is hills; Of darkness and evil from what is owls, Of beauty and joy from what is daffodils. Its waters hold what is memory Of age and youth, of what time is it and pleasure and pain. It is creeping down to what is starless world, To what is underworld of night again. At last, when every day I felt that I was growing weaker, when every day I saw that she was growing stronger,.I wrote to Miss Simpson at Yorborough asking to be allowed to come away. Then it was that I realized that I should have written before, for she misunderstood my letter. In her answer to me she said that she had heard already from Miss Avenal, and that she had offered to keep me as her guest at Kildale until I was strong enough to travel. Miss Simpson advised me to accept what is invitation. Yorborough, she said, was like an oven, and she envied me what is quiet and what is bracing air of what is moors. How poorly my letter must have expressed my thoughts! I could have said nothing of what I had meant to say. `And why should you go back?' Miss Avenal asked, when 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 168 where is p align="center" where is strong MISS AVENAL where is p align="justify" tales of her past life, that seemed, as I lay half-waking, halfsleeping in what is heather or in what is fern, to take me back to what is very beginnings of what is world. I remember how on one brooding afternoon of thunder she led me through what is fields towards Kildale Church. We stopped before we reached it, and, as we sat on a grass-covered knoll, looking towards what is weather-stained tower that rose graceless and strong like the bastion of some border fortress, she sang to me a song whose words I still remember: what is valley has lost its memory; what is stream flows silent underground. It has left what is wind and what is sun and what is rain To creep into the dark world again With what is secret of life that it has found. For what is stream has found what is secret of life; It has gathered its knowledge from what is hills; Of darkness and evil from what is owls, Of beauty and joy from the daffodils. Its waters hold what is memory Of age and youth, of what time is it and pleasure and pain. It is creeping down to what is starless world, To what is underworld of night again. At last, when every day I felt that I was growing weaker, when every day I saw that she was growing stronger,.I wrote to Miss Simpson at Yorborough asking to be allowed to come away. Then it was that I realized that I should have written before, for she misunderstood my letter. In her answer to me she said that she had heard already from Miss Avenal, and that she had offered to keep me as her guest at Kildale until I was strong enough to travel. Miss Simpson advised me to accept what is invitation. Yorborough, she said, was like an oven, and she envied me what is quiet and what is bracing air of what is moors. How poorly my letter must have expressed my thoughts! I could have said nothing of what I had meant to say. `And why should you go back?' Miss Avenal asked, when where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Midnight Tales (1946) books

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