False EvidenceOppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
General
False Evidence
Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
Soldiers -- Fiction
I caught hold of him by the waist, and dragged him back from his
perilous position. He submitted without protesting--without speech of
any sort. Looking into his face a great fear came upon me. Were my
words prophetic, and was he indeed going mad? There was a dreamy,
far-away look in his glazed eyes, a look which frightened me more than
a wilder one would have done, and his face was like the face of a
corpse. Then, with a deep groan, his knees would have given way from
under him, but that I still held him up. He was unconscious.
CHAPTER VIII
"MY VOW"
How we reached home that night I could never exactly tell. I know that
I half carried, half supported him down the narrow path, and at last
managed to reach the door of our house. But it was no easy task, and
for some minutes I stood there panting and exhausted before I could
bring myself to summon any one. Then my mother, who had been sitting
up anxiously, heard us, and came hurrying out full of eager inquiries.
But I had no strength left to answer her, and when she saw my father's
state she ceased her questioning, for she knew at once what had
happened.
For three whole days and nights he was only partially conscious. Then
he fell into a heavy sleep, which the doctor whom we had summoned from
Minehead assured us was his salvation; and so it turned out, for on the
fourth day he recovered consciousness, and within a week he was up, and
looked much as usual, save for the worn, troubled look in his eyes, and
the deeper lines on his forehead.
On the first afternoon when he was allowed to talk, my mother was alone
with him for several hours. Then she came out, and fetched me in from
the garden and took me to him.
"Hugh, my boy," he said slowly, looking up from his desk, "we are
making our plans for the future. We are going to leave here at once."
I was not surprised, and I was certainly not displeased. For although
I loved our country home and the quaint homely people by whom we were
surrounded, I could never look upon Bossington Headland again without a
shudder, when I remembered how nearly it had witnessed a terrible
tragedy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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