《Rilla Of Ingleside √ (Project K.)》CHAPTER 30: THE TURNING OF THE TIDE
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Susan was very sorrowful when she saw the beautiful old lawn of Ingleside ploughed up that spring and planted with potatoes. Yet she made no protest, even when her beloved peony bed was sacrificed. But when the Government passed the Daylight Saving law Susan balked. There was a Higher Power than the Union Government, to which Susan owed allegiance.
"Do you think it right to meddle with the arrangements of the Almighty?" she demanded indignantly of the doctor. The doctor, quite unmoved, responded that the law must be observed, and the Ingleside clocks were moved on accordingly. But the doctor had no power over Susan's little alarm.
"I bought that with my own money, Mrs. Dr. dear," she said firmly, "and it shall go on God's time and not Borden's time."
Susan got up and went to bed by "God's time," and regulated her own goings and comings by it. She served the meals, under protest, by Borden's time, and she had to go to church by it, which was the crowning injury. But she said her prayers by her own clock, and fed the hens by it; so that there was always a furtive triumph in her eye when she looked at the doctor. She had got the better of him by so much at least.
"Whiskers-on-the-moon is very much delighted with this daylight saving business," she told him one evening. "Of course he naturally would be, since I understand that the Germans invented it. I hear he came near losing his entire wheat-crop lately. Warren Mead's cows broke into the field one day last week—it was the very day the Germans captured the Chemang-de-dam, which may have been a coincidence or may not—and were making fine havoc of it when Mrs. Dick Clow happened to see them from her attic window. At first she had no intention of letting Mr. Pryor know. She told me she had just gloated over the sight of those cows pasturing on his wheat. She felt it served him exactly right. But presently she reflected that the wheat-crop was a matter of great importance and that 'save and serve' meant that those cows must be routed out as much as it meant anything. So she went down and phoned over to Whiskers about the matter. All the thanks she got was that he said something queer right out to her. She is not prepared to state that it was actually swearing for you cannot be sure just what you hear over the phone; but she has her own opinion, and so have I, but I will not express it for here comes Mr. Meredith, and Whiskers is one of his elders, so we must be discreet."
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"Are you looking for the new star?" asked Mr. Meredith, joining Miss Oliver and Rilla, who were standing among the blossoming potatoes gazing skyward.
"Yes—we have found it—see, it is just above the tip of the tallest old pine."
"It's wonderful to be looking at something that happened three thousand years ago, isn't it?" said Rilla. "That is when astronomers think the collision took place which produced this new star. It makes me feel horribly insignificant," she added under her breath.
"Even this event cannot dwarf into what may be the proper perspective in star systems the fact that the Germans are again only one leap from Paris," said Gertrude restlessly.
"I think I would like to have been an astronomer," said Mr. Meredith dreamily, gazing at the star.
"There must be a strange pleasure in it," agreed Miss Oliver, "an unearthly pleasure, in more senses than one. I would like to have a few astronomers for my friends."
"Fancy talking the gossip of the hosts of heaven," laughed Rilla.
"I wonder if astronomers feel a very deep interest in earthly affairs?" said the doctor. "Perhaps students of the canals of Mars would not be so keenly sensitive to the significance of a few yards of trenches lost or won on the western front."
"I have read somewhere," said Mr. Meredith, "that Ernest Renan wrote one of his books during the siege of Paris in 1870 and 'enjoyed the writing of it very much.' I suppose one would call him a philosopher."
"I have read also," said Miss Oliver, "that shortly before his death he said that his only regret in dying was that he must die before he had seen what that 'extremely interesting young man, the German Emperor,' would do in his life. If Ernest Renan 'walked' today and saw what that interesting young man had done to his beloved France, not to speak of the world, I wonder if his mental detachment would be as complete as it was in 1870."
"I wonder where Jem is tonight," thought Rilla, in a sudden bitter inrush of remembrance.
It was over a month since the news had come about Jem. Nothing had been discovered concerning him, in spite of all efforts. Two or three letters had come from him, written before the trench raid, and since then there had been only unbroken silence. Now the Germans were again at the Marne, pressing nearer and nearer Paris; now rumours were coming of another Austrian offensive against the Piave line. Rilla turned away from the new star, sick at heart. It was one of the moments when hope and courage failed her utterly—when it seemed impossible to go on even one more day. If only they knew what had happened to Jem—you can face anything you know. But a beleaguerment of fear and doubt and suspense is a hard thing for the morale. Surely, if Jem were alive, some word would have come through. He must be dead. Only—they would never know—they could never be quite sure; and Dog Monday would wait for the train until he died of old age. Monday was only a poor, faithful, rheumatic little dog, who knew nothing more of his master's fate than they did.
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Rilla had a "white night" and did not fall asleep until late. When she wakened Gertrude Oliver was sitting at her window leaning out to meet the silver mystery of the dawn. Her clever, striking profile, with the masses of black hair behind it, came out clearly against the pallid gold of the eastern sky. Rilla remembered Jem's admiration of the curve of Miss Oliver's brow and chin, and she shuddered. Everything that reminded her of Jem was beginning to give intolerable pain. Walter's death had inflicted on her heart a terrible wound. But it had been a clean wound and had healed slowly, as such wounds do, though the scar must remain for ever. But the torture of Jem's disappearance was another thing: there was a poison in it that kept it from healing. The alternations of hope and despair, the endless watching each day for the letter that never came—that might never come—the newspaper tales of ill-usage of prisoners—the bitter wonder as to Jem's wound—all were increasingly hard to bear.
Gertrude Oliver turned her head. There was an odd brilliancy in her eyes.
"Rilla, I've had another dream."
"Oh, no—no," cried Rilla, shrinking. Miss Oliver's dreams had always foretold coming disaster.
"Rilla, it was a good dream. Listen—I dreamed just as I did four years ago, that I stood on the veranda steps and looked down the Glen. And it was still covered by waves that lapped about my feet. But as I looked the waves began to ebb—and they ebbed as swiftly as, four years ago, they rolled in—ebbed out and out, to the gulf; and the Glen lay before me, beautiful and green, with a rainbow spanning Rainbow Valley—a rainbow of such splendid colour that it dazzled me—and I woke. Rilla—Rilla Blythe—the tide has turned."
"I wish I could believe it," sighed Rilla.
"Sooth was my prophecy of fear
Believe it when it augurs cheer,"
quoted Gertrude, almost gaily. "I tell you I have no doubt."
Yet, in spite of the great Italian victory at the Piave that came a few days later, she had doubt many a time in the hard month that followed; and when in mid-July the Germans crossed the Marne again despair came sickeningly. It was idle, they all felt, to hope that the miracle of the Marne would be repeated. But it was: again, as in 1914, the tide turned at the Marne. The French and the American troops struck their sudden smashing blow on the exposed flank of the enemy and, with the almost inconceivable rapidity of a dream, the whole aspect of the war changed.
"The Allies have won two tremendous victories," said the doctor on 20th July.
"It is the beginning of the end—I feel it—I feel it," said Mrs. Blythe.
"Thank God," said Susan, folding her trembling old hands, Then she added, under her breath, "but it won't bring our boys back."
Nevertheless she went out and ran up the flag, for the first time since the fall of Jerusalem. As it caught the breeze and swelled gallantly out above her, Susan lifted her hand and saluted it, as she had seen Shirley do. "We've all given something to keep you flying," she said. "Four hundred thousand of our boys gone overseas—fifty thousand of them killed. But—you are worth it!" The wind whipped her grey hair about her face and the gingham apron that shrouded her from head to foot was cut on lines of economy, not of grace; yet, somehow, just then Susan made an imposing figure. She was one of the women—courageous, unquailing, patient, heroic—who had made victory possible. In her, they all saluted the symbol for which their dearest had fought. Something of this was in the doctor's mind as he watched her from the door.
"Susan," he said, when she turned to come in, "from first to last of this business you have been a brick!"
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Flight of The Draykes
You can join my discord community where we meme and derp around here: DISCORD LINK Welcome to the Flight of the Draykes. This novel is a System-based sword and magic Western Fantasy with elements of gamelit (Dungeons) and eastern cultivation (The system). Genre: Fantasy, Historical, Action, Adventure, and a sprinkle of Romance with Comedy. Pacing: Slow at first till chapter 30 before becoming a rollercoaster. Known Issues: Ages of the Protagonist and allies at the start. NOTE: THE AGES IN THIS NOVEL ARE NOT REPRESENTATIVE OF THEIR ACTUAL MATURITY. THEY ARE PROTEANS FIRST. AND HUMANS SECOND. Also, if you're looking for smut, this novel isn't for you. Not in the slightest. On a fewer caps note: The age maturity thing is integral to the plot and it will be explained rationally as the books go along. You are free to guess why that is. Synopsis: Book 1 presents to you the world of Protos. Protos is the land of the blessed. Its inhabitants are of many races, but most of them have diminished in the long wars against the beasts that also inhabit Protos. This has led to humanity becoming the dominant species and eventually, all other races, including the beasts, have been banished to pockets of land where they survive on meager existences. However, Protos was destined not to be peaceful as the inhabitants could only fight off the beasts with the help of warforce. A bloodline system that allows them to activate their war potential and battle fiercely. Now, with the beasts defeated and the other races diminished, humanity - having no common foe to fight turned upon itself, for war was in their blood and they again shed their blood in rivers. As the years passed, kingdoms and empires rose and fell and eventually stabilized into an uneasy peace until - 300 years ago, the world went through yet another change. A change where the wielders of warforce now possessed additional powers that had been lost for millennia. These powers changed the face of war again and conflict, which was dying down, reignited madly. In this world was born Faustus Drayke, Scion of House Drayke - which, in turn, was the frontier protector of The Kingdom of Leon. Fate decreed him to be unimportant. His Destiny and the desperate prophecy of a powerless girl decreed that he will be an immortal. Set in the backdrop of betrayal, honor, and loyalty - Follow the tale of Faustus Drayke as he forges his destiny and becomes an immortal. For himself, he has to fulfill the prophecy. For the world, he better fulfill the prophecy. ``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````` The inspiration for this book came from Smoke is a Path's TotRL - which has unfortunately been discontinued. I have no interest in finishing others' stories, but I love creating my own. So I took inspiration from TotRL and I created this vast original overreaching world of over 30 books, with each book being around 100 chapters. Expect the full story to be close to 3000 chapters. Release Schedule: 3 chapters a day. 11:30 am - Eastern Standard Time - 1st Chapter 01:00 pm - Eastern Standard Time - 2nd Chapter 02:30 pm - Eastern Standard Time - 3rd Chapter All timings are subject to + or - 30 minutes. If you like this series, please do support me by leaving reviews that help me improve my writing, comments that inspire me to keep writing harder, and ratings that allow this series to be seen by more people. Thank you very much and cheers all! Horizon out. Current Arc: Arc 4 Current Volume: Volume 2 You can join my discord community where we meme and derp around here: DISCORD LINK
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Magandang Araw! Mga kapwa ko manunula(t) at mambabasa.Ito ay koleksyon ng mga tulang aking isinulat.Kung may nais kayong tema maaari ninyong sabihin sa akin upang magawa ko sa abot ng aking makakaya.😊😊😊Poem-Collection.//Tagalog//English//Disclaimer: Isa pa lamang akong baguhan.So please, Limit your Expectations.💓Follow me and I'll follow you back!😉
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