{"id":"01KG8AKRV724BV0T7J4SMJ646P","cid":"bafkreic7pqnk6le4a6dooc33typabqkldppwztbi6m3xwzoueq3qr4oysa","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":437,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:15.023Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 3","source_file":"01KG89J1F4D8P9BBX9AMGZ7TX7","start_line":382,"text":"the mended upper panes. I spoke. She shyly started, like some Tahiti\r\ngirl, secreted for a sacrifice, first catching sight, through palms, of\r\nCaptain Cook. Recovering, she bade me enter; with her apron brushed off\r\na stool; then silently resumed her own. With thanks I took the stool;\r\nbut now, for a space, I, too, was mute. This, then, is the\r\nfairy-mountain house, and here, the fairy queen sitting at her fairy\r\nwindow.\r\n\r\nI went up to it. Downwards, directed by the tunneled pass, as through a\r\nleveled telescope, I caught sight of a far-off, soft, azure world. I\r\nhardly knew it, though I came from it.\r\n\r\n“You must find this view very pleasant,” said I, at last.\r\n\r\n“Oh, sir,” tears starting in her eyes, “the first time I looked out of\r\nthis window, I said ‘never, never shall I weary of this.’”\r\n\r\n“And what wearies you of it now?”\r\n\r\n“I don’t know,” while a tear fell; “but it is not the view, it is\r\nMarianna.”\r\n\r\nSome months back, her brother, only seventeen, had come hither, a long\r\nway from the other side, to cut wood and burn coal, and she, elder\r\nsister, had accompanied, him. Long had they been orphans, and now, sole\r\ninhabitants of the sole house upon the mountain. No guest came, no\r\ntraveler passed. The zigzag, perilous road was only used at seasons by\r\nthe coal wagons. The brother was absent the entire day, sometimes the\r\nentire night. When at evening, fagged out, he did come home, he soon\r\nleft his bench, poor fellow, for his bed; just as one, at last, wearily\r\nquits that, too, for still deeper rest. The bench, the bed, the grave.\r\n\r\nSilent I stood by the fairy window, while these things were being told.\r\n\r\n“Do you know,” said she at last, as stealing from her story, “do you\r\nknow who lives yonder?—I have never been down into that country—away\r\noff there, I mean; that house, that marble one,” pointing far across\r\nthe lower landscape; “have you not caught it? there, on the long\r\nhill-side: the field before, the woods behind; the white shines out\r\nagainst their blue; don’t you mark it? the only house in sight.”\r\n\r\nI looked; and after a time, to my surprise, recognized, more by its\r\nposition than its aspect, or Marianna’s description, my own abode,\r\nglimmering much like this mountain one from the piazza. The mirage haze\r\nmade it appear less a farm-house than King Charming’s palace.\r\n\r\n“I have often wondered who lives there; but it must be some happy one;\r\nagain this morning was I thinking so.”\r\n\r\n“Some happy one,” returned I, starting; “and why do you think that? You\r\njudge some rich one lives there?”\r\n\r\n“Rich or not, I never thought; but it looks so happy, I can’t tell how;\r\nand it is so far away. Sometimes I think I do but dream it is there.\r\nYou should see it in a sunset.”\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 3"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AK3EKFW7571ZFEHKPRBKC","peer_type":"section","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1F4D8P9BBX9AMGZ7TX7","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKRV71P4MXP488DTWGJGD","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:15.207Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:22.242Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}