American fiction -- 19th century; Detective and mystery stories
“For fourteen years I have taken an interest in you and done for you
what I have done for nobody else in the town. I hope that my care has
made a good girl of you, and that under all your fanciful ways and merry
antics there hides a true woman’s heart.”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I know that I would rather give up my
fortune than one little memory connected with these last three weeks.”
“And he—he loves you? You are sure of it, little one?”
The lift of her head was eloquent; the doctor wished he could see her
face, but the darkness was too thick for that.
“May Heaven bless you!” faltered on his tongue; but the words were too
unusual to the ascetic’s cold lips for them to pass into speech, and the
girl thought his manner more distant and unsympathetic than common.
“It is a secret I have told you,” she murmured, and being then within a
few steps of her own gate, she slid from his grasp and vanished in the
darkness.
He, with a sigh that seemed to rend the icy bonds which years of
repression had bound about his breast, remained for a moment with his
head bent, gazing on the ground at his feet. Then he drew himself up,
and passed quickly back over the road he had come.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
V.
NOCTURNAL WANDERINGS.
THE wanderer, of whose name even the landlord at the tavern seemed
uncertain, passed some curious days after this. Upon the plea of wanting
work, he visited house after house in the village, staying in each one
as long as he was made welcome. Though no talker, he seemed to like to
have talk going on around him, and if he sometimes went to sleep over
it, he was forgiven by the simple and credulous inhabitants on account
of his old age and seeming decrepitude. In one house he was given
breakfast, in another dinner, but in none did he find work, though he
assured everybody that he was very good in the field, notwithstanding
the unfortunate curvature of his back.
It was not an uncommon thing in Hamilton for men to pass from house to
house in this way, and he was little noted, but if anyone had been
curious enough to watch his eye they would have observed that it had a
remarkably penetrating power, and that but little escaped its notice.
Another thing that would also have been noticed was the curious look of
recognition which would suddenly creep into his eyes, as if he saw some
of these things for the second time; and if anyone had walked near
enough to him to listen as well as watch, he would have heard a name
drop from his lips now and then as he walked up the phlox-bordered walk
of some humble garden, or stopped at the back door of one of the more
pretentious mansions on the main street.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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