Books with title The Girl from Montana

Young Elizabeth was left without parents by a malefactor who kills her remaining brother, goes Montana on horseback to look for her living relatives in the East. Her societal and religious trek heads her through disturbing chances, tussles between good and bad, passion and, finally, love and wealth. The Girl from Montana consists of these sections: April Gold; Happiness Hill; The Beloved Stranger; The Honor Girl; Bright Arrows; Kerry; Christmas Bride; Marigold; Crimson Roses; Miranda; Duskin; The Mystery of Mary; Found Treasure; Partners; A Girl to Come Home To; Rainbow Cottage; The Red Signal; White Orchids; Silver Wings; The Tryst; The Strange Proposal; Through These Fires; The Street of the City; All Through the Night; The Gold Shoe; Astra; Homing; Blue Ruin; Job's Niece; Challengers; The Man of the Desert; Coming Through the Rye; More Than Conqueror; Daphne Deane; A New Name; The Enchanted Barn; The Patch of Blue; Girl from Montana; The Ransom; Rose Galbraith; The Witness; Sound of the Trumpet; Sunrise; Tomorrow About This Time; Amorelle; Head of the House; Ariel Custer; In Tune with Wedding Bells; Chance of a Lifetime; Maris; Crimson Mountain; Out of the Storm; Exit Betty; Mystery Flowers; The Prodigal Girl; Girl of the Woods; Re-Creations; The White Flower; Matched Pearls; Time of the Singing of Birds; Ladybird; The Substitute Guest; Beauty for Ashes; Stranger Within the Gate; The Best Man; Spice Box; By Way of the Silverthorns; The Seventh Hour; Dawn of the Morning; The Search; Brentwood; Cloudy Jewel and The Voice in the Wilderness. Grace Livingston Hill was one of the first 20th century authors and wrote both using her full name and the pen name Marcia Macdonald. She drafted more than 100 novels and a number of short fiction. She was born in Wellsville, New York to Marcia Macdonald Livingston and her husband, Presbyterian minister Charles Montgomery Livingston.

The late afternoon sun was streaming in across the cabin floor as the girl stole around the corner and looked cautiously in at the door. There was a kind of tremulous courage in her face. She had a duty to perform, and she was resolved to do it without delay. She shaded her eyes with her hand from the glare of the sun, set a firm foot upon the threshold, and, with one wild glance around to see whether all was as she had left it, entered her home and stood for a moment shuddering in the middle of the floor. A long procession of funerals seemed to come out of the past and meet her eye as she looked about upon the signs of the primitive, unhallowed one which had just gone out from there a little while before. The girl closed her eyes, and pressed their hot, dry lids hard with her cold fingers; but the vision was clearer even than with her eyes open. She could see the tiny baby sister lying there in the middle of the room, so little and white and pitiful; and her handsome, careless father sitting at the head of the rude home-made coffin, sober for the moment; and her tired, disheartened mother, faded before her time, dry-eyed and haggard, beside him. But that was long ago, almost at the beginning of things for the girl.

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The late afternoon sun was streaming in across the cabin floor as the girl stole around the corner and looked cautiously in at the door. There was a kind of tremulous courage in her face. She had a duty to perform, and she was resolved to do it without delay. She shaded her eyes with her hand from the glare of the sun, set a firm foot upon the threshold, and, with one wild glance around to see whether all was as she had left it, entered her home and stood for a moment shuddering in the middle of the floor.

The late afternoon sun was streaming in across the cabin floor as the girl stole around the corner and looked cautiously in at the door. There was a kind of tremulous courage in her face. She had a duty to perform, and she was resolved to do it without delay. She shaded her eyes with her hand from the glare of the sun, set a firm foot upon the threshold, and, with one wild glance around to see whether all was as she had left it, entered her home and stood for a moment shuddering in the middle of the floor. A long procession of funerals seemed to come out of the past and meet her eye as she looked about upon the signs of the primitive, unhallowed one which had just gone out from there a little while before. The girl closed her eyes, and pressed their hot, dry lids hard with her cold fingers; but the vision was clearer even than with her eyes open. She could see the tiny baby sister lying there in the middle of the room, so little and white and pitiful; and her handsome, careless father sitting at the head of the rude home-made coffin, sober for the moment; and her tired, disheartened mother, faded before her time, dry-eyed and haggard, beside him. But that was long ago, almost at the beginning of things for the girl. There had been other funerals, the little brother who had been drowned while playing in a forbidden stream, and the older brother who had gone off in search of gold or his own way, and had crawled back parched with fever to die in his mother's arms. But those, too, seemed long ago to the girl as she stood in the empty cabin and looked fearfully about her. They seemed almost blotted out by the last three that had crowded so close within the year. The father, who even at his worst had a kind word for her and her mother, had been brought home mortally hurt—an encounter with wild cattle, a fall from his horse in a treacherous place—and had never roused to consciousness again.

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