Sir Isumbras at the FordBroster, D. K. (Dorothy Kathleen)
General
Sir Isumbras at the Ford
Broster, D. K. (Dorothy Kathleen)
English fiction -- 20th century; Historical fiction
"Then I could put my big shell inside," murmured Anne drowsily.
"M. le Chevalier said it came from . . . came from. . . ." He ceased
suddenly; he was asleep.
Conscience-stricken at last, Mr. Elphinstone rang the bell for
Elspeth, and was left by the fire to reflect on the inexhaustible
mercy of Heaven, and on the debt that he owed to a man away in
Jersey, whom he scarcely knew, whom he could not even thank--a
debt that in any case, so far as he could see, must ever go unpaid,
for it was unpayable.
CHAPTER XVI
THE AGENT DE LA CORRESPONDANCE
(1)
It was not until the _Seaflower's_ boat was actually pulling off
from the shore, and his feet were sunk in the wet sand of Porhoët
Bay, that Fortuné de la Vireville realised how much more serious
than he had imagined might prove the results of the ridiculous
accident which had befallen him a few hours previously at St.
Helier. Embarking, according to arrangement with the Prince de
Bouillon, on the lugger _Seaflower_ with a view to being landed,
not at Kerdronan as usual, but at Porhoët, where Grain d'Orge was
to meet him, he had had the misfortune to receive upon his left
foot the full weight of a refractory water-cask of considerable
size, which, escaping from the hands of a clumsy sailor, had rolled
vehemently down a gang-plank upon him before he could get out of
its way. It is true that when he had finished swearing he had found
the episode rather ludicrous, and had laughed at himself for his
ill-luck, and that on board the lugger, slipping along with an easy
evening breeze from Jersey, the damaged foot, though it had
sufficiently pained, had not greatly incommoded him. But here, at
midnight, alone on the hostile coast of France, he knew for the
first time that he was indeed disabled, and that he could not fully
rely on that vigorous body of his which for thirty odd years had
seldom failed to respond to the often exorbitant demands that he
made upon it. It was not at all a pleasant thought, and, standing
there at the water's edge, La Vireville uttered a final and more
fervent malediction upon the water-cask.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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