Charles Tyrrell; or, The Bitter Blood. Volumes I and IIJames, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
General
Charles Tyrrell; or, The Bitter Blood. Volumes I and II
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Murder -- Fiction
He was raised upon the step of the door, and was, consequently,
looking down upon another person, whom he spoke to, standing on the
little gravel semicircle before the house, and who was also somewhat
shorter than himself. His companion, however, was apparently not less
endowed with corporeal vigour, and though not a young man by any
means, was two or three years younger than the master of the house. He
was broadly built, with large, strong limbs, a rough, hale
countenance, and a frank, clear blue eye. There were one or two deep
scars upon his face, which somewhat disfigured him; but in every other
respect his countenance was good and pleasing, though there was about
it, at the moment, a sort of thoughtfulness and sternness which
betokened occupation with matters of importance and moment.
While talking to the other, he remained with his large brawny hands
behind his back, looking up in the face of his companion with the
queue, and the subject they spoke upon was marked as one of
considerable interest, more by the pauses for reflection which took
place between every sentence and its rejoinder, than by any great
changes of expression called up in the speakers' countenances. They
evidently understood each other perfectly, so that whatever was to be
said was only, in fact, half expressed, and that in a particular slang
of their own, eked out by a shrug of the shoulders, a lifting up of
the eyebrows, or an occasional ejection of tobacco-juice from the
mouth, which seemed to be looked upon as very expressive.
"Well, good-night, Master Longly," said the shorter of the two, taking
a step back from the door and shaking hands with the other: "I'll do
as you think fit, you know; but I think myself--the sooner gone the
better."
"So do I, so do I," answered the other. "Good-night, old Will."
But, though they mutually wished each other good-night, they by no
means parted, nor, indeed, seemed to have the slightest idea that they
were going to part; for Master Longly, or, as the people about the
country used generally to call him, Captain Long, descended from his
doorway as the other turned away, and sauntered after him through the
garden; while Old Will, as he termed him, perfectly sure that the
other was following, continued his observations in rejoinder to what
had taken place at the door.
Thus they walked on, putting one slow step before another till they
reached the top of the cliff, where they again came to a pause and
another discussion, and then breaking off again, old Will began to
descend the zigzag towards the shore, while Longly, after taking two
or three steps farther, leaned over the railing as he had done forty
times before in the same circumstances, and continued talking with the
other till he was half way down. Then came the quicker and final
good-night, and Captain Long took his way back with a somewhat more
rapid step.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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