The Broad Highway by Jeffery Farnol (ebook reader with highlight function TXT) đ
- Author: Jeffery Farnol
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After this Simon fell silent, and I likewise, until we reached the village. Before âThe Bullâ was a group who talked with hushed voices and grave faces; even Old Amos grinned no more.
The old man lay in his great four-post bed, propped up with pillows, and with Prue beside him, to smooth his silver hair with tender fingers, and Black George towering in the shade of the bed-curtains, like a grieving giant.
ââEre I be, Peter,â said the old man, beckoning me feebly with his hand, ââere I beâat the partinâ oâ the ways, anâ wiâ summâat gone wrong wiâ my innards! When a man gets so old as I be, âis innards be like glass, Peter, like glassâanâ apt to fly all to pieces if âe goes a-slippinâ anâ a-slidinâ downstairs, like me.â
âAre you in pain?â I asked, clasping his shrivelled hand.
âJest a twinge, now anâ then, PeterâbutâLord! that beanât nothinâ to a man the likes oâ meâPeterââ
âYou always were so hale and hearty,â I nodded, giving him the usual opening he had waited for.
âAy, so strong as a bull, that I were! like a lion in my youth âBlack Jarge were nought to meâa cart âorse I were.â
âYes,â said I, âyes,â and stooped my head lower over the feeble old hand.
âBut arter all, Peter, bulls pass away, anâ lions, anâ cart âorses lose their teeth, anâ gets wore out, for âall flesh is grassââbut ironâs iron, beanât it, Peterârusts it do, but âtis iron all the same, anâ lasts a man outâeven such a âearty chap as I were?â
âSometimes,â said I, without looking up.
âAnâ I be very old anâ tired, Peter; my âeart be all wore out wiâ beatinâ anâ beatinâ all these yearsââtis a wonder as it didnât stop afore nowâbut aâa--stapil, Peter, donât âave no âeart to go a-beatinâ anâ a-wearinâ of itself away?â
âNo, Ancient.â
âSo âere be I, a-standinâ in the Valley oâ the Shadow, anâ waitinâ for Godâs Angel to take my âand for to show me the way. âTis a darksome road, Peter, but I beanât afeared, anâ there be a light beyond Jordan-water. No, I arenât afeared to meet the God as made me, for âthe Lord is mercifulâand very kind,â anâ I donât sâpose as âEâll be very âard on a old, old man as did âis best, anâ wiâ a âeart all tired anâ wore away wiâ beatinââI be ready, Peter onlyââ
âYes, Ancient?â
âOh, Peter!âit be that theer old stapilâasâll go on rustinâ away anâ rustinâ away arter the old man as watched it so is laid in the earth, anâ forgot aboutââ
âNo,â said I, without looking up, but slipping my hand into my pocket; âno, Ancientââ
âPeterâOh, Peter!âdo âee meanâ?â
âI mean that, although it had no heart, the staple was tired and worn outâjust as you are, and so I brought it to you,â and I slipped the rusty bit of iron into the old manâs trembling palm.
âO Lordâ!â he began in a fervent voice, âO dear Lord!âI got it, Lordâthâ owd stapilâI be ready to come to Thee, anâ jâyful âjâyful! anâ for this mercy, anâ benefit receivedâblessed be Thy name. Amen!â
He lay very quiet for a while, with the broken staple clasped to his breast, and his eyes closed.
âPeter,â said he suddenly, âyou wonât âave no one to bring you noos no moreâwhy, Peter! be âee cryinââfor me? âTis true ât were me as found ye, but I didnât think as youâd go to cry tears for meâI be goinâ to takâ tâ owd stapil wiâ me, Peter, all along the roadâanâ, Peterââ
âYes, Ancient?â
âBe you quite sure as you arenât a dook?â
âQuite sure.â
âNor a earl?â
âNo, Ancient.â
âNot even aâbarrynet?â
âNo, Ancient.â
âAh, well!âyou be a man, Peter, anâ âtis summâat to haâ found a manâthat it be.â
And now he feebly beckoned us all nearer.
âChildren,â said he, âI be a old anâ ancient man I be goinâ on âacross the river to wait for youâmy blessinâ on ye. It be a dark, dark road, but Iâve got tâ owd stapil, anâ thereâbe a light beyondâthe river.â
So, the Ancient sighed, and crossed the dark River into the Land of Light Eternal.
CHAPTER XLII
HOW SIR MAURICE KEPT HIS WORD
Night, with a rising moon, and over all things a great quietude, a deep, deep silence. Air, close and heavy, without a breath to wake the slumbering trees; an oppressive stillness, in which small sounds magnified themselves, and seemed disproportionately loud.
And presently, as I went upon my way, I forgot the old man sleeping so peacefully with the rusty staple clasped to his shrunken breast, and thought only of the proud woman who had given her life into my keeping, and who, henceforth, would walk with me, hand in hand, upon this Broad Highway, over rough places, and smoothâeven unto the end. So I strode on, full of a deep and abiding joy, and with heart that throbbed and hands that trembled because I knew that she watched and waited for my coming.
A sound broke upon the stillnessâsudden and sharpâlike the snapping of a stick. I stopped and glanced about meâbut it had come and goneâlost in the all-pervading calm.
And presently, reaching the leafy path that led steeply down into the Hollow, I paused a moment to look about me and to listen again; but the deep silence was all unbroken, save for the slumberous song of the brook, that stole up to me from the shadows, and I wondered idly what that sudden sound might have been. So I began to descend this leafy path, and went on to meet that which lay waiting for me in the shadows.
It was dark here among the trees, for the moon was low as yet, but, every now and then, she sent a kindly ray through some opening amid the leaves, so that as I descended the path I seemed to be wading through small, limpid pools of radiance.
But all at once I stoppedâstaring at something which lay at the edge of one of these poolsâa white clawâa hand whose fingers, talon-like, had sunk deep and embedded themselves in the turf. And, beyond this gleaming hand, was an arm, and beyond that again, something that bulked across my path, darker than the shadows.
Running forward, I stood looking down at that which lay at my feetâso very still; and stooped suddenly, and turned it over that I might see the face; and, seeing it, started back in shuddering horror. For, in those featuresâhideous with blood, stained and blackened with powder, I recognized my cousinâSir Maurice Vibart. Then, remembering the stick that had snapped, I wondered no more, but a sudden deadly faintness came upon me so, that I leaned weakly against a tree near by.
A rustling of leavesâa shuddering breath, and, though I did not raise my head, I knew that Charmian was there.
âOh, Peter!â she whispered, âoh, Peter!â and that was all, but, moved by something in her tone, I glanced up. Her eyes were wide and staringânot at me, but at that which lay between usâher face was pallid; even her lips had lost their color, and she clasped one hand upon her bosomâthe other was hidden in the folds of her gown hidden as I remembered to have seen it once before, but now it struck me with a horrible significance. Wherefore I reached out and caught that hidden hand, and drew the weapon from her nerveless fingers, holding it where the light could play upon it. She started, shivered violently, and covered her eyes, while I, looking down at the pistol in my hand, saw that it had lately been discharged.
âHe has kept his word!â she whispered; âhe has kept his word!â
âYes, Charmianâhe has kept his word!â
âOh, Peter!â she moaned, and stretched out her hands towards me, yet she kept her face turned from that which lay across the path between us, and her hands were shaking pitifully. âPeter?â she cried with a sudden break in her voice; but I went on wiping the soot from the pistol-barrel with the end of my neckerchief. Then, all at once, she was beside me, clasping my arm, and she was pleading with me, her words coming in a flood.
âNo, Peter, noâoh, God!âyou do not think itâyou canâtâyou mustnât. I was aloneâwaiting for you, and the hours passedâand you didnât comeâand I was nervous and frightened, and full of awful fancies. I thought I heard some oneâcreeping round the cottage. Once I thought some one peered in at the lattice, and once I thought some one tried the door. And soâbecause I was frightened, Peter, I took thatâthat, and held it in my hand, Peter. And while I sat thereâit seemed more than everâthat somebody was breathing softlyâoutside the door. And so, Peter, I couldnât bear it any moreâand opened the latticeâand fired âin the airâI swear it was in the air. And I stood thereâat the open casementâsick with fear, and trying to pray for you âbecause I knew he had come backâto kill you, Peter, and, while I prayed, I heard another shotânot close, but faintâlike the snapping of a twig, Peterâand I ran outâandâoh, Peter!âthat is allâbut you believeâoh!âyou believe, donât you, Peter?â
While she spoke, I had slipped the pistol into my pocket, and now I held out my hands to her, and drew her near, and gazed into the troubled depths of her eyes.
âCharmian!â said I, âCharmianâI love you! and God forbid that I should ever doubt you any more.â
So, with a sigh, she sank in my embrace, her arms crept about my neck, and our lips met, and clung together. But even thenâwhile I looked upon her beauty, while the contact of her lips thrilled through meâeven then, in any mind, I saw the murderous pistol in her handâas I had seen it months ago. Indeed, it almost seemed that she divined my thought, for she drew swiftly back, and looked up at me with haggard eyes.
âPeter?â she whispered, âwhat is itâwhat is it?â
âOh, Charmian!â said I, over and over again, âI love youâI love you.â And I kissed her appealing eyes, and stayed her questioning lips with my kisses. âI love you more than my lifeâmore than honorâmore than my soul; and, because I so love youâto-night you must leave meââ
âLeave you?âah no, Peterânoâno, I am your wifeâI must stay with youâto suffer and share your troubles and dangersâit is my rightâmy privilege. Let us go away together, nowâanywhere âanywhere, only let us be togetherâmyâhusband.â
âDonât!â I cried, âdonât! Do you think it is so easy to remain here without youâto lose you so soonâso very soon? If I only loved you a little less! Ah! donât you seeâbefore the week is out, my description will be all over England; we should be caught, and you would have to stand beside me in a court of justice, and face the shame of itââ
âDear love!âit would be my prideâmy pride, Peter, to face them allâto clasp this dear hand in
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