Guy Rivers: A Tale of GeorgiaSimms, William Gilmore
History
Guy Rivers: A Tale of Georgia
Simms, William Gilmore
Georgia -- History -- 1775-1865 -- Fiction; Gold mines and mining -- Fiction
It appears that Ralph was not less the subject of consideration with the
individual in question. We have seen the degree and kind of espionage
which the former had felt at one time disposed to resent; and how he was
defeated in his design by the sudden withdrawal of the obnoxious
presence. On his departure with Forrester from the gallery, Rivers
reappeared--his manner that of doubt and excitement; and, after hurrying
for a while with uncertain steps up and down the apartment, he passed
hastily into the adjoining hall, where the landlord sat smoking,
drinking, and expatiating at large with his guests. Whispering something
in his ear, the latter rose, and the two proceeded into the adjoining
copse, at a point as remote as possible from hearing, when the
explanation of this mysterious caution was opened by Rivers.
"Well, Munro, we are like to have fine work with your accursed and
blundering good-nature. Why did you not refuse lodgings to this
youngster? Are you ignorant who he is? Do you not know him?"
"Know him?--no, I know nothing about him. He seems a clever,
good-looking lad, and I see no harm in him. What is it frightens you?"
was the reply and inquiry of the landlord.
"Nothing frightens me, as you know by this time, or should know at
least. But, if you know not the young fellow himself you should
certainly not be at a loss to know the creature he rides; for it is not
long since your heart was greatly taken with him. He is the youth we set
upon at the Catcheta pass, where your backwardness and my forwardness
got me this badge--it has not yet ceased to bleed--the marks of which
promise fairly to last me to my grave."
As he spoke he raised the handkerchief which bound his cheeks, and
exposed to view a deep gash, not of a serious character indeed, but
which, as the speaker asserted, would most probably result in a mark
which would last him his life. The exposure of the face confirms the
first and unfavorable impression which we have already received from his
appearance, and all that we have any occasion now to add in this respect
will be simply, that, though not beyond the prime of life, there were
ages of guilt, of vexed and vexatious strife, unregulated pride, without
aim or elevation, a lurking malignity, and hopeless discontent--all
embodied in the fiendish and fierce expression which that single glimpse
developed to the spectator. He went on--
"Had it been your lot to be in my place, I should not now have to tell
you who he is; nor should we have had any apprehensions of his crossing
our path again. But so it is. You are always the last to your
place;--had you kept your appointment, we should have had no difficulty,
and I should have escaped the mortification of being foiled by a mere
stripling, and almost stricken to death by the heel of his horse."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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