Then she turned her back on the road and spent the next half
hour in beating the dust out of all the parlor and sitting room
sofa pillows and one or two of the covered chairs.
Peace, like the sunshine itself, lay over all of Wreckers' Head.
Here and there a spiral of smoke rose from a chimney, and fowl
wandered about the well-reaped fields. But not much other life was
visible. The fall haze gave to distant objects a dimmer outline,
softening the sharp lineaments of the more rugged landscape. Color
and form took on new beauty.
It was all so lovely, so peaceful, that it was impossible that the
girl should have dreamed of what was approaching. Since she had come
her mind had not been so far from apprehension of disaster. Since
Sunday, when she had wandered with Tunis along the shore, it had
seemed to the young woman that no harm could assail her. She was
secure, sheltered, impregnably fortified both in Tunis' love and in
the situation she had gained with the Balls and in the community.
She knew, at last, that somebody was on the road, but she would not
look. She heard the latch of the gate and the creak of its hinges.
Somebody was behind her. How softly Tunis stepped! She thought that
he was approaching her quietly, believing he could surprise her.
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