The Summit House Mystery; Or, The Earthly PurgatoryDougall, L. (Lily)
General
The Summit House Mystery; Or, The Earthly Purgatory
Dougall, L. (Lily)
Detective and mystery stories; Georgia -- Fiction; Mountain life -- Fiction
"Oh!" she cried, "I have done nothing; I have only forgotten--forgotten
that for most people 'love' and 'marriage' are interesting words. They
have no interest for me." As usual, she regretted an impulsive
confession as soon as she perceived it. "I only mean that I have no
intention of marrying--or rather, that I intend not to marry."
"Such resolutions are sometimes broken."
"With me that is impossible." Her manner was growing more remote.
Durgan had not a prying mind, yet he found his thought full of
questions. The more closely he observed the sisters, the less was he
able to imagine an explanation of what he saw and heard. Bertha's was a
larger intellectual outlook than her sister's, and it might seem she
would weary of her companion; but, on the contrary, there was the
closest comradeship. Miss Smith managed the house solely for Bertha's
welfare; but the petted child was not spoiled, and made every return of
unselfish devotion.
Chapter VIII
THE WORDLESS LETTERS
Close around the little village of Deer Cove, three mountain steeps
looked down in everlasting peace; two upland valleys descended to the
village, and held on their fertile slopes many small farms and hamlets.
The houses of men employed in the saw-mill, which had created the
village, lay within a nearer circle.
Of all this district the post-office at Deer Cove was the centre. The
mill belonged to the Durgan Blounts, whose summer residence lay at some
distance on the one road which threaded the descending ravine to the
county town of Hilyard. All substance and knowledge which came to Deer
Cove was hauled up this long, winding road from the unseen town, and
halted at the post-office, which was also the general store and tavern.
Thither the mill-hands, and an ever-changing group of poor whites,
repaired for all refreshment of body and mind.
The rush of the stream, the whirr of the mill, the sigh of the
wind-swept woods, the never-silent tinkling from the herds that roam
the forests--these sounds mingled always with the constant talk that
went on in the post-office. Here news of the outer world met with scant
attention; but things concerning the region were discussed, weighed, and
measured by the standard of the place. The wealth of a housekeeper was
gauged by the goods he received direct from Hilyard and further markets,
and his social importance by the number of his letters. A steady
correspondence proved stability of connection and character; a telegram
conferred distinction.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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