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Maxwell, W. B., 1866-1938

"The Devil's Garden"

How long did
he take to drag and raise the ladder, pausing to recover breath,
holding his side and coughing, then again toiling?
Another thing that depressed Dale's spirits was the departure of Mr.
Osborn, who had gone to the Midlands to take up the ministry of a
large church in a large town. And never had Dale more felt the want of
priestly support than at this period. The new pastor was a young man
who preached eloquently, but Dale would not be able to talk to him as
he had talked to Osborn.
Mavis observed again what she had not seen for ages, the gloom on her
husband's face when he sat alone, or thought that he was alone. The
dull brooding look that spoiled his aspect at such times was like the
shadow of a dark cloud on a field; but as in the past the shadow went
rapidly, and she fancied she could chase it away as surely as if she
had been the sunshine. She would have been startled and pained if she
could have seen his face now, as he rode from Manninglea after
luncheon at the club.
It was a wet spring day, with dark clouds hanging low over the heath,
a cold wind cheeping, soughing, sighing; and Dale's face was darker
and sadder than the day. Before mounting his horse in the hotel yard
at Manninglea he had gone to the station and bought _The Times_
newspaper; now he drew the paper out of his pocket, and sheltering it
with his rain cloak, read an advertisement on the front page.


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