Produced by Doug Levy

THE MILLER OF OLD CHURCH

by Ellen Glasgow

To my sister Cary Glasgow McCormack In loving acknowledgment of help and sympathy through the years

CONTENTS
BOOK FIRST
JORDAN'S JOURNEY

Chapter

     I. At Bottom's Ordinary
     II. In Which Destiny Wears the Comic Mask
     III. In Which Mr. Gay Arrives at His Journey's End
     IV. The Revercombs
     V. The Mill
     VI. Treats of the Ladies' Sphere
     VII. Gay Rushes Into a Quarrel and Secures a Kiss
     VIII. Shows Two Sides of a Quarrel
     IX. In Which Molly Flirts
     X. The Reverend Orlando Mullen Preaches a Sermon
     XI. A Flight and an Encounter
     XII. The Dream and the Real
     XIII. By the Mill-race
     XIV. Shows the Weakness in Strength
     XV. Shows the Tyranny of Weakness
     XVI. The Coming of Spring
     XVII. The Shade of Mr. Jonathan
     XVIII. The Shade of Reuben
     XIX. Treats of Contradictions
     XX. Life's Ironies
     XXI. In Which Pity Masquerades as Reason

BOOK SECOND

THE CROSS-ROADS

Chapter

     I. In which Youth Shows a Little Seasoned
     II. The Desire of the Moth
     III Abel Hears Gossip and Sees a Vision
     IV. His Day of Freedom
     V. The Shaping of Molly
     VI. In Which Hearts Go Astray
     VII. A New Beginning to an Old Tragedy
     VIII. A Great Passion in a Humble Place
     IX. A Meeting in the Pasture
     X. Tangled Threads
     XI. The Ride to Piping Tree
     XII. One of Love's Victims
     XIII. What Life Teaches
     XIV. The Turn of the Wheel
     XV. Gay Discovers Himself
     XVI. The End

     Author's Note: The scene of this story is not the
     place of the same name in Virginia.

BOOK FIRST

JORDAN'S JOURNEY
THE MILLER OF OLD CHURCH

CHAPTER I

AT BOTTOM'S ORDINARY

It was past four o'clock on a sunny October day, when a stranger, whohad ridden over the "corduroy" road between Applegate and Old Church,dismounted near the cross-roads before the small public house known toits frequenters as Bottom's Ordinary. Standing where the three roadsmeet at the old turnpike-gate of the county, the square brick building,which had declined through several generations from a chapel into atavern, had grown at last to resemble the smeared face of a clown undera steeple hat which was worn slightly awry. Originally covered withstucco, the walls had peeled year by year until the dull red of thebricks showed like blotches of paint under a thick coating of powder.Over the wide door two little oblong windows, holding four damagedpanes, blinked rakishly from a mat of ivy, which spread from the rottingeaves to the shingled roof, where the slim wooden spire bent under theweight of creeper and innumerable nesting sparrows in spring. Afterpointing heavenward for half a century, the steeple appeared to haveswerved suddenly from its purpose, and to invite now the attention ofthe wayfarer to the bar

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