{"id":"01KG8AMZM7G2RY4DNTDFADMVDR","cid":"bafkreihdbtzuqtz3qqbreoe6wlm4cancqfcbllq5izztyycgj2vvgga3mi","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":1972,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:52.918Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J1JSYKSGCE149MH9HF6A","start_line":1908,"text":"BOOK III.\r\n\r\nTHE PRESENTIMENT AND THE VERIFICATION.\r\n\r\n\r\nI.\r\n\r\nThe face, of which Pierre and Lucy so strangely and fearfully hinted,\r\nwas not of enchanted air; but its mortal lineaments of mournfulness had\r\nbeen visibly beheld by Pierre. Nor had it accosted him in any privacy;\r\nor in any lonely byeway; or beneath the white light of the crescent\r\nmoon; but in a joyous chamber, bright with candles, and ringing with two\r\nscore women's gayest voices. Out of the heart of mirthfulness, this\r\nshadow had come forth to him. Encircled by bandelets of light, it had\r\nstill beamed upon him; vaguely historic and prophetic; backward, hinting\r\nof some irrevocable sin; forward, pointing to some inevitable ill. One\r\nof those faces, which now and then appear to man, and without one word\r\nof speech, still reveal glimpses of some fearful gospel. In natural\r\nguise, but lit by supernatural light; palpable to the senses, but\r\ninscrutable to the soul; in their perfectest impression on us, ever\r\nhovering between Tartarean misery and Paradisaic beauty; such faces,\r\ncompounded so of hell and heaven, overthrow in us all foregone\r\npersuasions, and make us wondering children in this world again.\r\n\r\nThe face had accosted Pierre some weeks previous to his ride with Lucy\r\nto the hills beyond Saddle Meadows; and before her arrival for the\r\nsummer at the village; moreover it had accosted him in a very common\r\nand homely scene; but this enhanced the wonder.\r\n\r\nOn some distant business, with a farmer-tenant, he had been absent from\r\nthe mansion during the best part of the day, and had but just come home,\r\nearly of a pleasant moonlight evening, when Dates delivered a message to\r\nhim from his mother, begging him to come for her about half-past seven\r\nthat night to Miss Llanyllyn's cottage, in order to accompany her thence\r\nto that of the two Miss Pennies. At the mention of that last name,\r\nPierre well knew what he must anticipate. Those elderly and truly pious\r\nspinsters, gifted with the most benevolent hearts in the world, and at\r\nmid-age deprived by envious nature of their hearing, seemed to have made\r\nit a maxim of their charitable lives, that since God had not given them\r\nany more the power to hear Christ's gospel preached, they would\r\ntherefore thenceforth do what they could toward practicing it.\r\nWherefore, as a matter of no possible interest to them now, they\r\nabstained from church; and while with prayer-books in their hands the\r\nRev. Mr. Falsgrave's congregation were engaged in worshiping their God,\r\naccording to the divine behest; the two Miss Pennies, with thread and\r\nneedle, were hard at work in serving him; making up shirts and gowns for\r\nthe poor people of the parish. Pierre had heard that they had recently\r\nbeen at the trouble of organizing a regular society, among the\r\nneighboring farmers' wives and daughters, to meet twice a month at their\r\nown house (the Miss Pennies) for the purpose of sewing in concert for\r\nthe benefit of various settlements of necessitous emigrants, who had\r\nlately pitched their populous shanties further up the river. But though\r\nthis enterprise had not been started without previously acquainting Mrs.\r\nGlendinning of it,--for indeed she was much loved and honored by the\r\npious spinsters,--and their promise of solid assistance from that\r\ngracious manorial lady; yet Pierre had not heard that his mother had\r\nbeen officially invited to preside, or be at all present at the\r\nsemi-monthly meetings; though he supposed, that far from having any\r\nscruples against so doing, she would be very glad to associate that way,\r\nwith the good people of the village.\r\n\r\n\"Now, brother Pierre\"--said Mrs. Glendinning, rising from Miss\r\nLlanyllyn's huge cushioned chair--\"throw my shawl around me; and\r\ngood-evening to Lucy's aunt.--There, we shall be late.\"\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJS09N3S99PVZD1T34NCQ","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1JSYKSGCE149MH9HF6A","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AMZM7PGYPNYYQM6BM3ZT2","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:54.919Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:49:04.956Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}