Summary

Various The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. VIII: No…

Hazel had always imagined that suffering must of necessity, by its own inherent nature, bring with it a patience which would be reflected in a sweet face. Slowly, as she scans those immovable features, full of pain, and still more full of dogged rebellion, this idea has to be abandoned. Here obviously is a human being in the midst of a noisy squalor, whose physical disease and torture is unlightened by one softening ray of hope; whose misery is too sullen and dull to rise even to the hope of putting an end to itself.
Source: Gutenberg

Various The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. VIII: No…

Another groan, followed by some inaudible words, causes Hazel timidly to approach the wounded man. He is evidently one of the very poorest of the "common" soldiers; and there is a look in his face which speaks the word death with a shudder in the girl's heart. A gleam lightens the agony in the man's eyes as he sees the white form and gentle face above him. He gazes steadily a moment, as though to make sure his vision is not a passing illusion; then Hazel catches the words, "Were you sent to me?"
Source: Gutenberg

Various The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. VIII: No…

A girl in a long, white robe, with a sweet, dark-eyed face, which she knows to be her own. She is leaning slightly forward, and the eyes—so often heavy and weary—are brimming with happiness, the lips parted in a smile. Her hair, with its pretty, sunny ripples, is unbound, and the wind blows it slightly back from her shoulders. And, most wonderful and striking of all, a circlet of pure gold rests upon the shapely head, and a second circlet is clasped round the waist.
Source: Gutenberg

Get perspective with Kwize: daily news enlightened by great literature