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Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849

"The most interesting stories of all nations: American"

Our conjectures were vague, tumultuous, and
sometimes fearful. His sickness and his death might possibly have
detained him.
Tortured with suspense, we sat gazing at each other, and at the
path which led from the road. Every horseman that passed was, for
a moment, imagined to be him. Hour succeeded hour, and the sun,
gradually declining, at length disappeared. Every signal of his
coming proved fallacious, and our hopes were at length dismissed.
His absence affected my friends in no insupportable degree. They
should be obliged, they said, to defer this undertaking till the
morrow; and perhaps their impatient curiosity would compel them to
dispense entirely with his presence. No doubt some harmless
occurrence had diverted him from his purpose; and they trusted that
they should receive a satisfactory account of him in the morning.
It may be supposed that this disappointment affected me in a very
different manner. I turned aside my head to conceal my tears. I
fled into solitude, to give vent to my reproaches without
interruption or restraint. My heart was ready to burst with
indignation and grief.


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