[The Merry Men by Robert Louis Stevenson]@TWC D-Link book
The Merry Men

CHAPTER III
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An' then a' at aince, the minister's heart played dunt an' stood stock-still; an' a cauld wund blew amang the hairs o' his heid.

Whaten a weary sicht was that for the puir man's een! For there was Janat hangin' frae a nail beside the auld aik cabinet: her heid aye lay on her shoother, her een were steeked, the tongue projekit frae her mouth, and her heels were twa feet clear abune the floor.
'God forgive us all!' thocht Mr.Soulis; 'poor Janet's dead.' He cam' a step nearer to the corp; an' then his heart fair whammled in his inside.

For by what cantrip it wad ill-beseem a man to judge, she was hingin' frae a single nail an' by a single wursted thread for darnin' hose.
It's an awfu' thing to be your lane at nicht wi' siccan prodigies o' darkness; but Mr.Soulis was strong in the Lord.

He turned an' gaed his ways oot o' that room, and lockit the door ahint him; and step by step, doon the stairs, as heavy as leed; and set doon the can'le on the table at the stairfoot.

He couldnae pray, he couldnae think, he was dreepin' wi' caul' swat, an' naething could he hear but the dunt-dunt-duntin' o' his ain heart.


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