view release on metacpan or  search on metacpan

testdata/encantadas.txt  view on Meta::CPAN

eye bent upon the incessant waves. But they bore nothing to her but a
dirge, which maddened her to think that murderers should mourn. As time
went by, and these things came less dreamingly to her mind, the strong
persuasions of her Romish faith, which sets peculiar store by consecrated
urns, prompted her to resume in waking earnest that pious search which had
but begun as in somnambulism. Day after day, week after week, she trod the
cindery beach, till at length a double motive edged every eager glance.
With equal longing she now looked for the living and the dead, the brother
and the captain, alike vanished, never to return. Little accurate note of
time had Hunilla taken under such emotions as were hers, and little,
outside herself, served for calendar or dial. As to poor Crusoe in the
selfsame sea, no saint's bell pealed forth the lapse of week or month; each
day went by unchallenged; no chanticleer announced those sultry dawns, no
lowing herds those poisonous nights. All wonted and steadily recurring
sounds, human, or humanized by sweet fellowship with man, but one stirred
that torrid trance -- the cry of dogs; save which naught but the rolling
sea invaded it, an all-pervading monotone, and to the widow that was the
least loved voice she could have heard.

No wonder that, as her thoughts now wandered to the unreturning ship and
were beaten back again, the hope against hope so struggled in her soul that