Summary

Portrait of Gilbert Parker Gilbert Parker The Weavers: a tale of England and Egypt of fifty years ago - Volume 1

There is no habit so powerful as the habit of care of others. In Faith it came as near being a passion as passion could have a place in her even-flowing blood, under that cool flesh, governed by a heart as fair as the apricot blossoms on the wall in her father's garden. She had been bitterly hurt in the Meeting-house; as bitterly as is many a woman when her lover has deceived her. David had acknowledged before them all that he had played the flute secretly for years!
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Gilbert Parker Gilbert Parker The Weavers: a tale of England and Egypt of fifty years ago - Volume 1

Good morrow, Davy. Can you not hear me call? I have called thee so often of late! Good morrow! Good morrow! . . . I doff my hat, Davy—at last—to God!"
David's face whitened. All his visions had been true visions, his dreams true dreams. Brave Benn Claridge had called to him at his door—" Good morrow! Good morrow! Good morrow!" Had he not heard the knocking and the voice? Now all was made clear. His path lay open before him—a far land called him, his quiet past was infinite leagues away. Already the staff was in his hands and the cross-roads were sinking into the distance behind.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Gilbert Parker Gilbert Parker The Weavers: a tale of England and Egypt of fifty years ago - Volume 1

A woman's sob broke the air. Faith's handkerchief was at her eyes. Only one quick sob, but it had been wrung from her by the premonition suddenly come that the brother— he was brother more than nephew—over whom her heart had yearned had, indeed, come to the cross-roads, and that their ways would henceforth divide. The punishment or banishment now to be meted out to him was as nothing. It meant a few weeks of disgrace, of ban, of what, in effect, was self-immolation, of that commanding justice of the Society which no one yet save the late Earl of Eglington had defied.
Source: Gutenberg

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