Charles Dudley Warner

Charles Dudley Warner

Summary

Portrait of Charles Dudley Warner Charles Dudley Warner Their Pilgrimage

Occasionally the mist became so thin that a long line of coast and a great breadth of sea were visible, with the white sails drifting.
“There's nothing like it,” said King—“there's nothing like this island. It seems as if the Creator had determined to show man, once for all, a landscape perfectly refined, you might almost say with the beauty of high-breeding, refined in outline, color, everything softened into loveliness, and yet touched with the wild quality of picturesqueness.”
“It's just a dream at this moment,” murmured Irene. They were standing on a promontory of rock.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Charles Dudley Warner Charles Dudley Warner Their Pilgrimage

I cannot say whether the knowledge that Irene was in one of the cottages affected King's judgment, but that morning, when he strolled to the upper part of the grounds before breakfast, he thought he had never beheld a scene of more beauty and dignity, as he looked over the mass of hotel buildings, upon the park set with a wonderful variety of dark green foliage, upon the elevated rows of galleried cottages marked by colonial simplicity, and the soft contour of the hills, which satisfy the eye in their delicate blending of every shade of green and brown.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Charles Dudley Warner Charles Dudley Warner Their Pilgrimage

Ah! if one could always be in love and always young!
They went one day by invitation, Irene and Marion and King and the artist—as if it made any difference where they went—to Lonesome Lake, a private pond and fishing-lodge on the mountain-top, under the ledge of Cannon. There, set in a rim of forest and crags, lies a charming little lake—which the mountain holds like a mirror for the sky and the clouds and the sailing hawks—full of speckled trout, which have had to be educated by skillful sportsmen to take the fly.
Source: Gutenberg

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