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Turnbull, Mrs. Lawrence

"A Golden Book of Venice"

But the overtaxed heart and brain could endure
no longer thwarting; their activity and unquestioning purpose had been
her only power; and the moment she ceased to struggle will and reason
fled together.
Pitifully acquiescent, she went with them unresisting.
* * * * *
A haze that was not luminous hung in the sky; night was creeping on
without a sunset, as they battled their way up the Giudecca against the
current which rushed like a boiling torrent around San Giorgio--the blue
calm of the waters turned to a frenzied, foam-lashed green.
The men rowed fast, with tight-furled sail, but the storm came faster;
ranks of threatening clouds were hurrying from the east, gathering like
armies of vengeful spirits, darker, closer about them, shutting off
every breath of air; an oppression, throbbing with nameless fears, was
upon them--a hush, as if life had ceased; then the scorching, withering
torment of a fierce sirocco, and the moan of the wind, like a soul in
pain.


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