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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Warlock o' Glenwarlock"

I see it! I see it! but how shall I make my reader see
it with me? It was ghastly. The only similitude of life was the
perplexed and multitudinous motion of the drifting, falling flakes.
No shape was to be seen, no sound but that of the wind to be heard.
It was like the dream of a delirious child after reading the
ancient theory of the existence of the world by the rushing
together of fortuitous atoms. Wan and thick, tumultuous,
innumerable to millions of angels, an interminable tempest of
intermingling and indistinguishable vortices, it stretched on and
on, a boundless hell of cold and shapelessness--white thinned with
gray, and fading into gray blackness, into tangible darkness.
The moment the fury of the blast abated, Agnes turned, and without
a word, began again her boring march, forcing her way through the
palpable obstructions of wind and snow. Unable to prevent her,
Cosmo followed. But he comforted himself with the thought, that, if
the storm continued he would get his father to use his authority
against her attempting a return before the morning. The sutor's
wife was one of Grannie's best cronies, and there was no fear of
her being deserted through the night.
Aggie kept the lead she had taken, till there could be no more
question of going on, and they were now drawing near the road that
struck off to the left, along the bank of the Warlock river,
leading up among the vallies and low hills, most of which had once
been the property of the house of Warlock, when she stopped
suddenly, this time without turning her back to the wind, and Cosmo
was immediately beside her.


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