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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Captives"

A fear caught at her heart as she watched him; he
looked, indeed, terribly ill, exhausted with struggle, and now, with
all the bitterness and despair drowned in sleep, very gentle and
helpless. She bent over and folded the rug more closely round his
knees. Had he woken then and seen her gaze! Her hand'' routed for an
instant on his, then she withdrew back into her own corner.
That coming back into Glebeshire could not but be wonderful to her.
She had been away for so long and it was her home.
The tranquillity and peace of the spring evening clothed her like a
garment, the brown valleys, the soft green of the fields, the mild
blue of the sky touched her until she could with difficulty keep
back her tears.
"Oh, make it right!" she whispered; "make it right! Give him to me
again--I do love him so!"
It was dusk when they arrived at Clinton St. Mary's.
The little station stood open to all the winds of heaven blowing in
from the wide expanses of St. Mary's Moor. Maggie remembered, as
though it were yesterday, her arrival at that station with Aunt
Anne. Yes, she had grown since then.
A trap was waiting for them.


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