Modernity kills ghostly romance

I shall leave this farm-house very soon. The people are all right, but they are people, and therefore insufferable.

The air seemed to be filled with the perfume of some bitter spice. Viola could fancy almost that she saw a smoldering campfire and heard far off the roar of some desolate wild beast. She let her long hair fall, raising the heavy strands of …

On bitter nights in winter the moon called her and she came, when the breath was vapor, and the trees that circled her dancing-room were black, bare skeletons, and the frost was cruel.

How madly she danced that night!

Outside everything was uncannily visible in the light of the full moon, but here in the dark shaded alleys the night was conscious of itself.

The baronet, in his old age, had been cast up by his vices on the shores of melancholy; heavy-eyed, gray-haired, bent, he seemed to pass through life as in a dream.