Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 05
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Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 05
Literature -- Collections
I knew that the captain's house was first, both from what Lorna had said
of it, and from my mother's description, and now again from seeing
Charlie halt there for a certain time, and whistle on his fingers, and
hurry on, fearing consequence. The tune that he whistled was strange to
me, and lingered in my ears, as having something very new and striking
and fantastic in it. And I repeated it softly to myself, while I marked
the position of the houses and the beauty of the village. For the
stream, in lieu of the street, passing between the houses, and affording
perpetual change and twinkling and reflections--moreover, by its sleepy
murmur, soothing all the dwellers there--this, and the snugness of the
position, walled with rock and spread with herbage, made it look in the
quiet moonlight like a little paradise. And to think of all the inmates
there sleeping with good consciences, having plied their useful trade of
making others work for them, enjoying life without much labor, yet with
great renown!
Master Charlie went down the village, and I followed him carefully,
keeping as much as possible in the shadowy places, and watching the
windows of every house, lest any light should be burning. As I passed
Sir Ensor's house, my heart leaped up, for I spied a window, higher than
the rest above the ground, and with a faint light moving. This could
hardly fail to be the room wherein my darling lay; for here that
impudent young fellow had gazed while he was whistling. And here my
courage grew tenfold, and my spirit feared no evil; for lo! if Lorna had
been surrendered to that scoundrel Carver, she would not have been at
her grandfather's house, but in Carver's accursed dwelling.
Warm with this idea, I hurried after Charleworth Doone, being resolved
not to harm him now, unless my own life required it. And while I watched
from behind a tree, the door of the furthest house was opened; and, sure
enough, it was Carver's self, who stood bareheaded, and half undressed,
in the doorway. I could see his great black chest and arms, by the light
of the lamp he bore.
"Who wants me this time of night?" he grumbled, in a deep, gruff voice;
"any young scamp prowling after the maids shall have sore bones for
his trouble."
"All the fair maids are for thee, are they, Master Carver?" Charlie
answered, laughing; "we young scamps must be well content with coarser
stuff than thou wouldst have."
"Would have? Ay, and will have," the great beast muttered, angrily. "I
bide my time; but not very long. Only one word for thy good, Charlie. I
will fling thee senseless into the river if ever I catch thy girl-face
here again."
"Mayhap, Master Carver, it is more than thou couldst do. But I will not
keep thee; thou art not pleasant company to-night. All I want is a light
for my lantern, and a glass of schnapps, if thou hast it."
"What is become of thy light, then? Good for thee I am not on duty."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 05 — John Shaqi
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