Georgia Wood Pangborn

Summary

Georgia Wood Pangborn The Intruder (Georgia Wood Pangborn… (1907)

The oil of my lamp gave out with small cracklings of the wick, and the flame sank to an ill-smelling ring and then to darkness. The fog wavered and rose until the submerged tree took on clear outline; a moment more and the landscape, sponged clear of all obscurity, stood out, sharp and black, the threadbare branches of the trees showing through their network the rolling skyline of the mountains, and behind them the dawn, deliberately increasing, bringing conviction with it of a universe enmeshed and riveted by laws, upon which even so flighty a thing as man can place his faith.
Source: Wikisource

Georgia Wood Pangborn The Intruder (Georgia Wood Pangborn… (1907)

While I read in that dolorous book about souls, the night crept forward into the profound darkness of early morning. With evening had come a swift warmth, breeding, out of its meeting with the chill of the day, a thick fog, which laid its blank gray face against the lamp-light of my open window—a face un-featured except by the ghost of a scantily leaved branch, whose supporting tree trunk was hidden as if beneath deep water.
Source: Wikisource

Georgia Wood Pangborn The Intruder (Georgia Wood Pangborn… (1907)

Further likeness to a moth was carried out by a gray shawl which hung from her shoulders like folded gray wings. Like a moth, too, was the subtle shiver and quiver which shook her body and her voice as her lips twitched under their forlorn smile.
“I saw your light. I thought perhaps you were finding it dull, too. My little green man won’t sing with the rest. He is dying, I’m afraid.” She held the creature pitifully in her hand, and, upon entering, laid it in the circle of light under my reading-lamp. “I hate to see things die,” said she.
Source: Wikisource

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