Flitting gaily past them, on their way to the dry goods stores -- supplied by trains of pack-horses from over the Alleghanies, or by pack-horse and boat down the Ohio -- hurried the wives of the officers, daintily choosing satins and ribands for a coming ball.All this and more he noted as he passed lingeringly on.The deep vibrations of history swept through him, arousing him as the marshalling storm cloud, the rush of winds, and sunlight flickering into gloom kindle the sense of the high, the mighty, the sublime.…Cited from The Choir Invisible, by James Lane Allen
Farther along sat her husband -- bald-headed, bony-faced, dapper, with a large, bushy, reddish beard which trembled as he sat looking in front of himself, his eyes screwed up.A dull, immobile light entered through the high windows of the hall, outside of which snow glided and fell lingeringly on the ground.Between the windows hung a large portrait of the Czar in a massive frame of glaring gilt.…Cited from Mother, by Maxim Gorky
Sweetwater, who had many a soft spot in his breast, felt his heart warm at this one innocent display of natural feeling in an assemblage otherwise frozen by the horror of the occasion.His eyes dwelt lingeringly on the child, and still more lingeringly on the old, old man, before passing to that heaped-up mound of flowers, under which lay a murdered body and a bruised heart.He could not see the face, but the spectacle was sufficiently awe-compelling without that.…Cited from The House of the Whispering Pines, by Anna Katharine Green
It seemed to him as if some magician must have laid a spell upon his eyes, that he did not see even in that darkness how lovely a face Mercy had, did not feel even through all the embarrassment and strangeness the fascination of her personal presence.Then he dwelt lingeringly on the picture, which had never faded from his brain, of his next sight of her, as she sat on the old stone wall, with the gay maple-leaves and blackberry-vines in her lap.From that day to the present, he had seen her only a half dozen times, and only for a chance greeting as they had passed each other in the street; but it seemed to him that she had never been really absent from him, so conscious was he of her all the time.…Cited from Mercy Philbrick's Choice, by Helen Hunt Jackson
