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| Date: | Wed, 17 May 2006 21:57:15 +0800 |
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size=3D2><BR>------------------------<BR> When he went back into the furnace cellar, he found Nathaniel sitting before the fire. The food and warmth had brought a little color into his pale face, but it was still set in a mask of tragic desolation. <BR> And always the pine tree had grown, insolent in the pride of a creature set in the right surroundings. The imprisoned man had felt himself dwarfed by its height. But now, he looked up at it again, and laughed aloud. It had come late, but it had come. He was fifty-seven years old, almost three-score, but all his life was still to be lived. He said to himself that some folks lived their lives while they did their work, but he had done all his tasks first, and now he could live. The unexpected arrival of the timber merchant and the sale of that piece of land hed never thought would bring him a cent -- was not that an evident sign that Providence was with him? He was too old and broken now to work his way about as he had plann
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