dismantled, and the Wingdam stage deserted the highway for a shorter cut
by Quicksilver City. Only the bared crest of Deadwood Hill, as of
old, sharply cut the clear blue sky, and at its base, as of old, the
Stanislaus River, unwearied and unresting, babbled, whispered, and
hurried away to the sea.
A midsummer's day was breaking lazily on the Atlantic. There was not
wind enough to move the vapors in the foggy offing, but where the vague
distance heaved against a violet sky there were dull red streaks that,
growing brighter, presently painted out the stars. Soon the brown rocks
of Greyport appeared faintly suffused, and then the whole ashen line of
dead coast was kindled, and the lighthouse beacons went out one by one.
And then a hundred sail, before invisible, started out of the vapory
horizon, and pressed toward the shore. It was morning, indeed, and some
of the best society in Greyport, having been up all night, were thinking
it was time to go to bed.
For as the sky flashed brighter it fired the clustering red roofs of
a picturesque house by the sands that had all that night, from open
lattice and illuminated balcony, given light and music to the shore.
It glittered on the broad crystal spaces of a great conservatory that
looked upon an exquisite lawn, where all night long the blended odors
of sea and shore had swooned under the summer moon. But it wrought
confusion among the colored lamps on the long veranda, and startled
a group of ladies and gentlemen who had stepped from the drawing-room
window to gaze upon it. It was so searching and sincere in its way,
that, as the carriage of the fairest Miss Gillyflower rolled away, that
peerless young woman, catching sight of her face in the oval mirror,
instantly pulled down the blinds, and, nestling the whitest shoulders in
Greyport against the crimson cushions, went to sleep.
"How haggard everybody is! Rose, dear, you look almost intellectual,"
said Blanche Masterman.
"I hope not," said Rose, simply. "Sunrises are very trying. Look how
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