I She had thought that this marriage, of all marriages, would be an adventure. Not that the man himself was exactly magical to her. A little, wiry, twisted fellow, twenty years older than herself, with brown eyes and greying hair, who had come to America a scrap of a wastrel, from Holland, years ago, as a tiny boy, and from the gold-mines of the west had been kicked south into Mexico, and now was more or less rich, owning silver-mines in the wilds of the Sierra Madre: But he was still a little dynamo of energy, in spite of accidents survived, and what he had accomplished he had accomplished alone.
One of those human oddments there is no accounting for.
When she actually saw what he had accomplished, her heart quailed. Great green-covered, unbroken mountain-hills, and in the midst of the lifeless isolation, the sharp pinkish mounds of the dried mud from the silver-works. Under the nakedness of the works, the walled-in, one-storey adobe house, with its garden inside, and its deep inner verandah with tropical climbers on the sides.
And when you looked up from this shut-in flowered patio, you saw the huge pink cone of the silver-mud refuse, and the machinery of the extracting plant against heaven above. To be sure, the great wooden doors were often open.
And then she could stand outside, in the vast open world. And see great, void, tree-clad hills piling behind one another, from nowhere into nowhere.
They were green in autumn time. For the rest, pinkish, stark dry, and abstract. And in his battered Ford car her husband would take her into the dead, thrice-dead little Spanish town forgotten among the mountains.
The great, sundried dead church, the dead portales, the hopeless covered market-place, where, the first time she went, she saw a dead dog lying between the meat stalls and the vegetable array, stretched out as if for ever, nobody troubling to throw it away.
Everybody feebly talking silver, and showing bits of ore. But silver was at a standstill.
The great war came and went. Silver was a dead market. Her husband's mines were closed down. But she and he lived on in the adobe house under the works, among the flowers that were never very flowery to her.
She had two children, a boy and a girl. And her eldest, the boy, was nearly ten years old before she aroused from her stupor of subjected amazement. She was now thirty-three, a large, blue-eyed, dazed woman, beginning to grow stout.Here are the top most common Arabic mtb15.comly, 5, to be exact.
Master this list, and you are definitely cruising towards proficiency in your Arabic skills, and you will understand most of the Arabic you will encounter on a daily basis. Yahoo Lifestyle is your source for style, beauty, and wellness, including health, inspiring stories, and the latest fashion trends.
Title: The Woman Who Rode Away and other stories () Author: D. H.
Lawrence * A Project Gutenberg of Australia eBook * eBook No.: mtb15.com Edition: 1 Language: English Character set encoding: HTML--Latin-1(ISO) bit Date first posted: March Date most recently updated: March This eBook was produced by: Don Lainson [email protected] Project Gutenberg of .
Note: But, before we begin looking at it, first of all, we repeat again and again: do not blindly believe anything or merely take in on faith. What is said here is just a particular way to look at things, but it does not imply that you are forced to agree with anything said here, or anywhere for that matter.
Here are the top most common Arabic mtb15.comly, 5, to be exact. Master this list, and you are definitely cruising towards proficiency in your Arabic skills, and you will understand most of the Arabic you will encounter on a daily basis.
Latest breaking news, including politics, crime and celebrity. Find stories, updates and expert opinion.