I thought I understood, and resolved to
instruct Rebecca to forget the red-haired fisherman; to be "sensible,"
and "marry good, honest George Olver," who loved her so devotedly.
Lute Cradlebow had come home, and was one among the many figures at this
brilliant fete. Indeed, the bonfire had been deferred until later than
usual in the season, by reason of his absence, and now he was noticeably
the lion of the evening, in a brave dark blue cravat that was borne
outward by the wind, or fluttered becomingly under his chin, to the envy
and despair of all the Wallencamp youth. He exchanged a pleasant greeting
with every one, and brought the largest young tree of all up the hill on
his broad shoulders.
When, at length, the Wallencampers had permitted the fire to burn low,
they joined hands in a ring around the embers, and sang the saddest and
sweetest songs in the Hymnal. I sat on a rock near by, engaged as I had
been much of the time since my arrival in Wallencamp, in trying to
realize the situation--the awful gloom of the night, the river now
invisible, below, the sound of the surf farther off, that made my heart
sick, and with it the strange mingling of those religious songs, the
lonely hill, the smouldering fire, the fantastic group gathered around.
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