. The Viking blood; a story of seafaring. with moisture glistening on his forehead,turned and gazed at her. It was his Gethsemane, this spot,and the pain in his heart showed in his eyes. The girl saton the grass with averted face, nervously tearing a springflower to shreds. Ruth, he said at last in a voice cliargedwith emotion, With the exception of my mother, youveshaken my faith in women forever. Good-bye ! The fare-well came from his lips like the snap of a whip, and whenshe raised her tear-filled eyes, it was to see him stridingthrough the woods with his head high and his shoulderssquare.
. The Viking blood; a story of seafaring. with moisture glistening on his forehead,turned and gazed at her. It was his Gethsemane, this spot,and the pain in his heart showed in his eyes. The girl saton the grass with averted face, nervously tearing a springflower to shreds. Ruth, he said at last in a voice cliargedwith emotion, With the exception of my mother, youveshaken my faith in women forever. Good-bye ! The fare-well came from his lips like the snap of a whip, and whenshe raised her tear-filled eyes, it was to see him stridingthrough the woods with his head high and his shoulderssquare. When he vanished in the greenery, she gave a queerlittle sob and commenced to cry. For a minute she gaveway to her pent-up emotions, and only when she saw Waltercoming out of the sea did she arise and run back to a littlestream in the woods. Bathing her eyes in the cool water,she coaxed the evidences of tears from her face and triedto console herself that the ordeal was over. But in herheart of hearts she knew that it was just THE packet steamer was slugging hot-foot for Eastvilleas the sun went down behind an ominous bank ofclouds. Thuncer was rumbling to the southard andCaptain Westhaver was glancing every now and again outof the pilot-house window. Only a thunder storm, Ireckon, he muttered. But I dont like that cussed glassan that blurry sky to th southard. Looks jest like a WestInjy hurricane sky. r>ut, well git in afore it strikes. Thesea was smooth save or a slight swell rolling up from thesouthard, and there was but little wind. The chatter andlaughter of the picnickers sounded unusually loud on thequiet air. Someone was playing a fiddle, and there was adance going on aft. Down on the after freight deck away from the crowd,Donald McKenzie sat on the bitts, sucking away at a drypipe, and communing with his thoughts. Outwardly calm,3et boiling inwardly, he reviewed his years of acquaint-anceship with Ruth Nickerson. Ever and anon, the mem-ory of the night i
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, bookidvikingbloods, bookyear1920
