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Chapter 308
Chapter 2 THE WHITE WOMAN IN THE WOOD.I seek a sail that never looms from out the purple haze At rosy dawn, or fading eve, or in the noontide’s blaze. Celia Thaxter. Cecil walked listlessly on through the wood. He was worn out by the day’s efforts, though it was as yet but the middle of the afternoon. There was a feeling of exhaustion in his lungs, a fluttering pain about his heart, the result of years of over-work upon a delicate frame. With this feeling of physical weakness came always the fear that his strength might give way ere his work was done. Nor was this all. In these times of depression, the longing to see again the faces of his friends, to have again the sweet graceful things of the life that was forever closed to him, rushed over him in a bitter flood. The trail
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