Zoé Anderson Norris

Zoé Anderson Norris

Summary

Portrait of Zoé Anderson Norris Zoé Anderson Norris The Way of the Wind

Cyclona was not only the most beautiful young woman in the Magic City, but she was the most beautifully gowned and exquisite, what with her well-filled purse with its attendant luxuries of maids, mantua-makers and milliners. She was new to look at, but old thoughts clung to her, old dreams, old fancies.
Cyclona dreamed a dream one night. She thought that she was in the old dugout at the little deal table before the dim half-window, outside which the wind sang fitfully, blowing the tumbleweeds hither and thither, near and far, with moans and sighs, and Seth sat by her side.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Zoé Anderson Norris Zoé Anderson Norris The Way of the Wind

Seth was toiling slowly along a furrow back of his plow, bending sidewise with the force of the wind, not resentfully that it persisted in making it so difficult for him to earn his bread, for resentment was not in his nature, besides which, Seth loved the wind,—but humming a little tune, something soft and reminiscent about his old Kentucky home, with its chorus of "Fare you well, my lady," when a broncho, first a mere speck on the horizon ahead of him, then larger and larger, rushed out of the wind from across the prairie with flashing eyes and distended nostrils, and lunged toward him.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Zoé Anderson Norris Zoé Anderson Norris The Way of the Wind

Another brakeman taking his place, Seth walked.
He was not sorry to walk in this quiet land. How tenderly green the shrubbery was, how beautiful! Mingled with the darker green of the cedar and pine, the brown green of the cone.
How sweet the slow green trees! Not windswept! Not torn by the wild, wet fingers of the wind, not lashed with hot and scathing fingers gone dry with drought, but still and peaceful.
A sleepy world of streams it was, a sleepy world of streams and sweet green trees among whose leaflets gentle zephyrs [149] breathed scarcely perceptible sighs of pure contentment.
Source: Gutenberg

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