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The Re-Creation of Brian Kent by Harold Bell Wright
page 68 of 254 (26%)
stream of silvery light. But the stars were shining bright and clear,
and she could see the river where it made its dark, mysterious way
between the walls of shadowy hills; and borne to her ears on the gentle
night wind came the deep, thundering roar of the angry waters at Elbow
Rock.

For a long time she stood there on the porch looking into the night,
with the light from the open door of her little house behind her; and
she felt very lonely, very tired, and very old. With her beautiful old
face upturned to the infinite sky, where shining worlds are scattered
in such lavish profusion, she listened, listened to the river that, with
its countless and complex currents, swept so irresistibly onward along
the way that was set for it by Him who swung those star-worlds in the
limitless space of that mighty arch above. And something of the spirit
that broods ever over the river must have entered into the soul of
Auntie Sue. When she turned back into the house, there was a smile on
her face, though her eyes were wet with tears.

Going to the chair that held Brian Kent's clothing, she took the
garments in her arms and pressed them to her lips. Then she carried them
to his room.

For some time she remained in that darkened chamber beside the sleeping
man.

When she returned to the living-room, she again took up the newspaper.
Very carefully, that her sleeping companions in the house might not hear
her, she went to the kitchen, the paper in her hand. Very carefully,
that no sound should betray her act, she burned the paper in the kitchen
stove.
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