[Sally Dows and Other Stories by Bret Harte]@TWC D-Link bookSally Dows and Other Stories CHAPTER IV 11/24
She began to linger and loiter behind, hovering like a butterfly over some flowering shrub or clustered sheaf of lilies, until, encountered suddenly in her floating draperies, she might have been taken for a somewhat early and far too becoming ghost. It seemed to him, also, that her bright eyes were slightly shadowed by a gentle thoughtfulness.
He moved close to her side with an irresistible impulse of tenderness, but she turned suddenly, and saying, "Come!" moved at a quicker pace down a narrow side path.
Courtland followed.
He had not gone far before he noticed that the graves seemed to fall into regular lines, the emblems became cheaper and more common; wooden head and foot stones of one monotonous pattern took the place of carved freestone or marble, and he knew that they had reached that part of the cemetery reserved for those who had fallen in the war.
The long lines drawn with military precision stretched through the little valley, and again up the opposite hill in an odd semblance of hollow squares, ranks, and columns.
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