The Ordeal

Mary Newton Stanard
The Ordeal, by Charles Egbert
Craddock

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Title: The Ordeal A Mountain Romance of Tennessee
Author: Charles Egbert Craddock
Illustrator: Douglas Duer
Release Date: November 13, 2006 [EBook #19776]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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ORDEAL ***

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MIDDLE OF THE ROAD Page 101]

THE ORDEAL
A MOUNTAIN ROMANCE OF TENNESSEE
BY CHARLES EGBERT CRADDOCK

AUTHOR OF
"THE RAID OF THE GUERILLA," "THE PROPHET OF THE
GREAT SMOKY MOUNTAINS," "THE FAIR MISSISSIPPIAN,"
ETC.
WITH A FRONTISPIECE IN COLOR BY DOUGLAS DUER
PHILADELPHIA & LONDON J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 1912
COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
PUBLISHED SEPTEMBER, 1912
PRINTED BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY AT THE
WASHINGTON SQUARE PRESS PHILADELPHIA, U.S.A.

Transcriber's Notes:
This paragraph in Chapter II. is obviously a printer's error:
Here they found a change of sentiment prevailing. Although failing in
no observance of courtesy, Mrs. Briscoe had been a little less than
complaisant toward the departed guest. This had been vaguely
perceptible to Briscoe at the time, but now she gency constrained him.

In addition, a Table of Contents has been created for the convenience of
the reader.

Contents
I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV.

THE ORDEAL

I.
Nowhere could the idea of peace be more serenely, more majestically,
expressed. The lofty purple mountains limited the horizon, and in their
multitude and imposing symmetry bespoke the vast intentions of
beneficent creation. The valley, glooming low, harbored all the
shadows. The air was still, the sky as pellucid as crystal, and where a
crag projected boldly from the forests, the growths of balsam fir
extending almost to the brink, it seemed as if the myriad fibres of the
summit-line of foliage might be counted, so finely drawn, so individual,
was each against the azure. Below the boughs the road swept along the
crest of the crag and thence curved inward, and one surveying the scene
from the windows of a bungalow at no great distance could look
straight beyond the point of the precipice and into the heart of the
sunset, still aflare about the west.
But the realization of solitude was poignant and might well foster fear.
It was too wild a country, many people said, for quasi-strangers, and
the Briscoes were not justified in lingering so long at their summer
cottage here in the Great Smoky Mountains after the hotel of the
neighboring springs was closed for the season, and its guests and
employees all vanished town-ward. Hitherto, however, the Briscoes had
flouted the suggestion, protesting that this and not the spring was the
"sweet o' the year." The autumn always found the fires flaring on the
cosy hearths of their pretty bungalow, and they were wont to gaze

entranced on the chromatic pageantry of the forests as the season
waned. Presently the Indian summer would steal upon them unaware,
with its wild sweet airs, the burnished glamours of its soft red sun, its
dreamy, poetic, amethystine haze. Now, too, came the crowning
opportunity of sylvan sport. There were deer to stalk and to course with
horses, hounds, and horns; wild turkeys and mountain grouse to try the
aim and tax the pedestrianism of the hunter; bears had not yet gone into
winter quarters, and were mast-fed and fat; even a shot at a wolf, slyly
marauding, was no infrequent incident, and Edward Briscoe thought
the place in autumn an elysium for a sportsman.
He had to-day the prospect of a comrade in these delights from his own
city home and of his own rank in life, despite the desertion of the big
frame hotel on the bluff, but it was not the enticement of rod and gun
that had brought Julian Bayne suddenly and unexpectedly to the
mountains. His host and cousin, Edward Briscoe, was his co-executor
in a kinsman's will, and in the settlement of the estate the policy of
granting a certain power of attorney necessitated a conference more
confidential than could be safely compassed by correspondence. They
discussed this as they sat in the spacious reception hall, and had Bayne
been less preoccupied he must have noticed at once the embarrassment,
nay, the look of absolute dismay,
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