Christian life -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Orphans -- Fiction; Siblings -- Fiction
It was quite dark when they entered the path leading through the wood. No
one spoke now, and they trod cautiously, lest there should be any noise
from their footsteps. The tall black fir-trees towered above them to an
unusual height; and through all the topmost branches there ran a low,
mournful sound, as if every tree was whispering about them, and lamenting
over them. Even the little brook, which in the sunshine rippled so
merrily along the borders of the wood, seemed to be sobbing like a
grieved and tired child in the night-time. Strange rustlings on every
side, and sudden groanings of the withered boughs in some of the pines,
made them start in fear; and once, in a little opening among the trees,
when the stars came out and looked down upon them, Stephen would have
given all he had in the world to be safe at home, with little Nan singing
hymns on his knee, or quietly asleep after the hot and busy day.
'It's lonesome enough to make a bull-dog afeared,' whispered Davies, in
a frightened tone. But before long they were out of the wood; and in the
glimmer of light that lasts all night through during the summer, Stephen
saw Black Thompson unwind a net, which had been wrapped round his body
under his collier's jacket. More than half the covey of partridges were
bagged; and they had such capital luck, as the men called it, that
Stephen soon entered into the daring spirit of the adventure. It sent
a thrill of excitement through him, in which poor Snip was for the time
forgotten; and when about midnight Black Thompson and Davies said
'Good-night' to him at his cottage door, calling him a brave fellow, and
giving him a fine young leveret, with the promise that he should have his
share of whatever money they received for their spoil, he entered his
dark home, where every one was slumbering peacefully, and, without a
thought of sorrow or repentance, was quickly asleep himself.
CHAPTER VIII.
STEPHEN AND THE GAMEKEEPER.
Martha's exclamation of surprise and delight at seeing the leveret was
the first sound that Stephen heard in the morning; but he preserved a
sullen silence as to his absence the previous night, and Martha was too
shrewd to press him with questions. They had not been unused to such fare
during their father's lifetime; and it was settled between them that she
should come down from the bilberry-plain early in the afternoon to make a
feast of the leveret by the time of Stephen's return from the pit.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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