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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"The Flight of the Shadow"


But the sad thing was, that, when he did wake, he did not seem to come to
himself. He never spoke, but just lay and looked out of his eyes, if
indeed it was more than his eyes that looked, if indeed _he_ looked out
of them at all!
"He has overdone his strength!" we said to each other. "He has not been
taking care of himself!--And then to have lain perhaps hours in the snow!
It's a wonder he's alive!"
"He's nothing but skin and bone!" said Martha. "It will take weeks to get
him up again!--And just look at his clothes! How ever did he come nigh
such! They're fit only for a beggar! They must have knocked him down and
stripped him!--Look at his poor boots!" she said pitifully, taking up one
of them, and stroking it with her hand. "He'll never recover it!"
"He will," I said. "Here are three of us to give him of our life! He'll
soon be himself again, now that we have him!"
But my heart was like to break at the sad sight. I cannot put in words
what I felt.
"He would get well much quicker," said John, "if only we could tell him
we were married!"
"It will do just as well to invite him to the wedding," I answered.
"I do hope he will give you away," said Martha.
"He will never give me away," I returned; "but he will give me to John.
And I will not have the wedding until he is able to do that."
"You are right," said John. "And we mustn't ask him anything, or even
refer to anything, till he wants to hear.


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