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Hawthorne, Julian, 1846-1934

"Bressant"

The thought inspired him anew, and gave him further
strength. With such divine encouragement, he could falter and hesitate
no more.
Morning began to break dully over the sullen clouds as he resumed in
earnest his weary journey. Each yard of ground passed was now a battle
gained--every breath drawn a sobbing groan. Hills and dales rose
successively before him, clothed in the dead-white snow that had become
a nightmare to his darkening sight. He reeled sometimes as he walked,
dizzy from lack of sleep; a thousand fantastic fancies flitted through
his hot brain; a deadly lethargy began once more to creep over his
senses, but he gnawed the flesh of his lips to keep back consciousness.
And still, when will grew powerless, he felt the mysterious strain upon
his heart.
Only ten miles more! But they seemed by far the longer part of the whole
way. He was now within the range of his walks while living at the
boarding-house, and could see in his mind every slope and ascent, every
curve and angle, that lay between him and the Parsonage-door; and he
felt the weight of every hill upon his shoulders. At the risk of
falling, he stooped, snatched a handful of snow, and put it inside his
cap, so that it lay, cold and refreshing, upon his brain.


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