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The Black Pearl by Nancy Mann Waddel Woodrow
page 85 of 306 (27%)

Some day, when grief and horror shall be abandoned by man as utterly as
his dreams of cave-life; when his remembrances of wrestling with the
forces of nature or commerce shall seem as remote as his warfare with
beasts, and tribes as savage as beasts; when he lifts his dull eyes and
dares to dream only joy and beauty, then he will know that the gray
cries of the wind are but the emphasis to the singing of the sunlight,
that the black storm-clouds are but the contrast Beauty offers to deepen
and heighten the effect of her more ethereal hues, blue and rose and
pearl.

Hanson had stood the storm badly; inactivity was always a hardship to
him, also he was unused to such discomfort as he had to endure; and his
depression and unrest induced by the suspense he suffered in
continually wondering how Pearl would take Bob Flick's news were
greatly increased by the fact that he could get no word to her, nor
receive any from her.

But on the third night the storm stilled and in the morning the desert
showed herself sparkling like an enchantress, exhibiting all of her
marvelous illusions of color and wrapped in a golden garment of
sunshine. She smiled with all the allurement of a radiant and beautiful
woman.

Early in the morning, just as Hanson was preparing to send a note to
Pearl, he received one from her, asking him to meet her again within an
hour or two, amid the palms. She did not suggest his riding thither with
her. The note was brief, a mere line, and, study it as he would, he
found nothing in it to indicate what her attitude was toward him,
therefore it did not allay his nervousness in the least as to how she
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