Mad: A Story of Dust and AshesFenn, George Manville
General
Mad: A Story of Dust and Ashes
Fenn, George Manville
Fiction
Isaac Gross smiled, faster this time, for he took his pipe out of his
mouth to allow the smile to break into a grin; he then had a peep at
Mrs Slagg, who was on the watch, having seen Matt outside; and then, as
the old man made his way through the impedimenta of Lower Series-place,
turning the note he had received over and over in his hand, and
muttering as he went, Isaac's hammer went on "tap, tap, tap," till he
was out of hearing.
END OF VOLUME ONE.
Volume Two, Chapter I.
HOME.
Softly along the dark passages of the County Arms stole Septimus Hardon,
and with stealthy hand he loosened bar and bolt, till the front-door
yielded to his touch, and he stood in the grey dawn of the morning,
looking round the marketplace for a few minutes before making his way
along a road not travelled by him for years.
How familiar every spot seemed as he left the town behind!--spots dimly
seen as yet, but familiar enough to cause a swelling sensation at his
heart, and tears to rise unbidden to his eyes. Now he stopped to gaze
upon some old half-forgotten scene; now to listen to the morning hymn
rising from the wood upon his left--loud and high notes from thrush and
finch, mingled with the starling's mocking whistle, the mellow
flute-tones of the blackbird, and the incessant caw of the rooks. All
around seemed so peaceful, so utter a change from the miseries of a
close London court, that his thoughts went back from the present to the
old days of his boyhood, and for a while a sense of elation coursed
through his veins, his eyes sparkled, and he gazed round with delight
till they rested upon the spire of the old church, when a chill fell
upon his spirit once more, as he remembered the funeral and the miseries
of the present. Then, for the hundredth time, he recalled his father's
lonely and fearful end--passing away without a word of forgiveness; his
own return as a beggar to his old home, without a right therein--to be
met as it were upon the threshold, and to be told that he was an
intruder who could be admitted only upon sufferance. But he would
enter, he said, if only to ask of the dead to give him a sign respecting
the truth of his uncle's words.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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